


I Don’t Own a Single Gun (But If I Did You’d be the One)

by MCSSymon



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (depends on laws), 17th Century, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Internalized Homophobia, Louis is the son of Naval Officer, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Graphic Violence, Pirate Harry, Pirates, Religion, Top Harry, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, condoms didn't exist, consent is fun, liam is american
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 84,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10094705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCSSymon/pseuds/MCSSymon
Summary: 'I don’t want to die here, I don’t want to die here' he repeated to himself, over and over again until the words had lost their meaning and felt large and obtrusive in his mouth. “How old are you, boy?” Captain Styles asked, plainly. Louis hadn’t been expecting that, no, he’d been expecting the Captain to demand a case from Louis.“Eighteen, sir” Louis replied, following Zayn’s guideline as to how to address the Captain. At the very least Louis might be treated to a kinder death than the boy before Zayn if he addressed him properly.The Captain squinted, “You don’t look it, boy, I don’t appreciate liars. Now why don’t we try that again, shall we?” he offered nicely, obviously taking pity on Louis. He was showing mercy to Louis, a trait he had heard the Captain was not exactly famous for. The dread began to crawl up Louis’s throat and he feared it might just rise out of him. His took a deep breath before daring to open his mouth again, forcing the feeling back into his stomach.“Going on seventeen, Captain” Louis said again, quieter now.Or the one where Louis is trying to start a new life as a pirate. Harry just so happens to be a most notorious pirate of the time. It's 1680.





	1. 1.1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from The Lumineers "Gun Song"
> 
> I have been out of the fic game for like a year and a half. Have mercy.

Louis had been on _The Siren’s Spirit_ for three days. He had been a successful pirate for three days, before he found himself at the site of his inevitable death. There was little to be done to stop the captain of _The Rose_ from deciding he was not worth keeping alive. What skills did he have to offer the most notorious pirate ship of all time? He had, after all, only brought on as a pretty face in the first place. 

Captain Styles marched back and forth in front of the ten men who had survived the raid. Louis - who had spent his last three days exclusively in Captain Grimshaw’s cabin - had never met a single one of them. Captain Grimshaw was shot dead ten feet away from him, near the staircase to the upper deck, along with the young boy who had brought him meals for the last three day. He had been barely 14, now lying in a pool of blood, only some of which was his own.

To Louis’ left was a man with broad shoulder and hair shorn close to his head. Unlike most of the boys along the line, this man was surely out of his teens, seemingly an anomaly within _The Siren’s Spirit’s crew. He looked apprehensive, but not nearly as frightened as the men around him. Louis figured he must have something to offer Captain Styles. Louis looked at the man in the corner of his eye, to settle himself, as his death grew nearer and nearer._

“Alright men, it seems that I’ve got a couple of spots on my ship, after your scum of a Captain saw it fit to stage what could barely be called an attack” Captain Styles laughed, his head tipping back and his curls falling over his shoulders, “didn’t go too well, did it?” He asked as he looked back at the blond man standing just behind him. Captain Styles wasn’t old, certainly not as old as Grimshaw who had looked as if he was nearing forty. He looked closer to 25, which was awfully young to be carrying such a reputation. He laughed in the sort of way that made one feel on edge, as if he knew all sorts of things that you did not. He was far too nice looking for the way he spoke. With his long brown locks curling down to his shoulders, black overcoat and captain’s hat he looked like a proper leader, but far too kind. He had no scars or missing limbs, which must have been quite a feat, but made it quite obvious how young he was. 

A snicker of “ _fucking Grimmy_ ” came from the men standing behind the Captain. The ages of whom were starkly contrasting the boys beside Louis. Not a single one of the survivors, save the man beside him, was over 20, while some of the men behind the Captain were nearing their late 30s, it seemed.

“And while it seems like Grimmy has taken a liking to teenagers, and I don’t much fancy teenagers on my ship, I’m willing to consider. If your reasoning is sound enough” Styles scanned the men on their knees in front of him. He was near the end of the line, his profile illuminated by the sun as it began to sink towards the horizon. His nose tipped up in the way only a young man’s does; his face was soft and free of wrinkles. It was disconcerting to see that the man who had ruthlessly killed hundreds was so youthful, almost as if he were not affected by it. “Otherwise, you’ll become awfully acquainted with the sea, or the receiving end of a bullet, I reckon.” He turned quickly to his men, and then back to the survivors, “let the reasoning begin!” He smiled maliciously as he walked to the top of the line, only three men away from where Louis kneeled with a rope digging into his wrists. It was clear Captain Styles was just as cruel as the children on the islands had said. His name made it into every conversation, whether it was condemning him, or longing to join him. The rumors seemed to be true. 

The first man was maybe 18. His blond hair hung over his eyes as he bent his head to avoid eye contact with the Captain. “What’s your case boy? How can you serve me?” the Captain asked of the boy loudly. Louis could hear a scare tactic, and it seemed that Styles was awfully familiar with them. The man only looks at him with the eyes ablaze. His anger could even be seen from the slits he’d made his eyes in to. The man spat as the Captain’s feet and Louis held in a gasp, feeling his eyes grow wide as he saw the Captain’s reaction. “I can’t say I’m a fan of fussy little boys who can’t recognize an opportunity when one is presented” Styles said to the whole ship, as if to announce that this was something to note. “Shoot ‘im” He said quietly. 

The man with blond hair pulled back into a ponytail with a ribbon walked towards the boy. The blond couldn’t have had many years on the boy he was about to murder. The pistol in his hand was embellished and obviously expensive. Louis shivered, _what sort of men decorated weapons?_ The man raised the pistol to the boy’s head rather quickly, and shot a clean bullet through his head. The boy fell to his side, away from the boy next to him. The thud of his lifeless body echoed in Louis’ ears. Thinking of it, Louis had never seen anyone die before. He had heard that day’s raid through the door of Captain Grimshaw’s cabin, all alone. Louis’ heart suddenly felt very heavy. His throat felt tight and he felt as if he might gag onto the deck in the next moment. This would surely lead to his own similar death: Louis swallowed his bile. 

Captain Styles turned quickly back to the line. Louis craned his neck above the head of the older man to see the next boy. He was clearly from the east, the colour of his skin dark as the mahogany of the ship. He was handsome, but boyish. Almost as if his face were torn as to whether he were a man or a boy. His eyes were light as caramel and his dark hair fell over his face. “What of you?”

“I’ve been trained in the canons, sir. ‘ Was Master Gunner, sir,” The boy said confidently, but cautiously. The _sirs_ were deliberate. This boy knew his way around a pirate captain. Louis’ heart still pounded in his chest, from fear of his own fate. He couldn’t fathom how the boy was speaking the Captain Styles without tears welling to the corners of his eyes. 

“How’d you manage that, boy? You can’t be older than 17, more Powder Monkey material, don’t you think?” Styles laughed, looking at the boy pitifully, as if expecting him to correct his rank. “You were a young run-away then? Fancied yourself a life of piracy?”

The boy smiled and Louis was taken aback, “No sir, born and raised, sir.” What a _strange_ thought, a born and raised pirate? Louis had never heard of children raised on pirate ships, there certainly wasn’t room for toddlers on these bloodthirsty vessels. Perhaps that was why Captain Grimshaw had been so taken with Louis once he had revealed he was a carrier. Had Grimmy been planning to raise his own children as pirates?

“Aye?” Harry said cautiously as if not expecting such an outcome from the boy, “who’s your father then?” Louis had an awful feeling that the boy’s answer would very quickly decide if he was dying at the hand of the adorned pistol still hot in the blond man’s hand. 

“Captain Malik, sir. I believe the two of you were on good terms. He used to speak awfully highly of you” The boy spoke again, more sure of himself this time. Louis looked widely at the boy. _He was Malik’s son?_ The famous Arabic pirate was known all the way to the Caribbean seas. The sort of man pirates worshipped and parents on the islands warned against. There were legends of him, that he had made his way to the Atlantic, but never of his children. 

“Ah yes, Malik, a legend that man is” Captain Styles exclaimed as a smile broke out upon his face, “you must be Zayn then, ‘ should’ve recognized you, you’re about as pretty as they rest of you Maliks are. I met your sisters down in Tortuga a few months back, never ones for piracy those girls were, were you there with them? You can’t have been with Grimmy for long, surely I would have heard to news of a Malik with Grimshaw”. From the way he spoke the Malik name Louis suspected it was equivalent of a Navy medal. Surely there wasn’t a contest for the children of such a pirate. 

“No sir, haven’t been here long, maybe a fortnight.” The boy paused, as if contemplating whether or not to continue “I was in Port Royal for about a year.” Zayn’s voice dropped to a quiet mumble for his last sentence. Louis knew what happened to young boys in Port Royal. He’d contemplated going there himself, to find the funds to buy him passage somewhere. Lonely pirates overran the whorehouses of Port Royal, and boys were paid best, that was well known. Zayn must’ve known he was pretty: known he would make easy money on Port Royal. Zayn looked away from the pirate for a moment, his hair falling over his forehead. Louis finally remembered that this boy was just older than him, yet he spoke to the Captain with such boldness that he came across far beyond his years. 

“Aye” Captain Styles said softly, careful not to upset the boy, “well I can’t be killin’ Maliks, can I? We’ve got ourselves a Master Gunner, but I’m sure Steve could use the help, aye Steve?” A man nodded. He was Asian, with long black hair that hung on his shoulders. It struck Louis that _The Rose_ must allow other colours in the crew. Louis had always thought of the pirates of the Caribbean as British and French, but if pirates like Captain Malik could find their way to the island seas, surely the others were too. “Welcome to the crew, Zayn Malik” The Captain smiled as one of his men unknotted the rope binding his wrists. Louis contemplated for a moment if Zayn was Captain Styles’ own medal. Had he taken him for the bragging rights? He surely wasn’t above it. 

His face turned to steel again as he faced the next man, this time it was the one beside Louis with the shoulders. The Captain looked the man up and down for a moment. A smirk crept across the pirate’s face “You’re awfully old for this crew, eh?”

The man laughed, “Yes, Harry, I reckon I am”. This was the first time Louis had heard the captain’s first name, _Harry_ , his tongue rolled it over in his mouth, keeping it latched shut. The way the man looked at Harry, it looked as if he had known him for years. Perhaps they had sailed together. The man beside Louis’ wide shoulders relaxed significantly as Harry looked at him with a look of astonishment. As if Harry had not expected to find the man here in his wildest dreams. 

“Liam, what on earth are you doing on Nick Grimshaw’s ship?” Harry said as he smiled, almost exasperated by the man in front of him. He threw his hands up in air, amusingly confused at see what was surely his friend as a member of the crew of a man the Captain clearly disliked quite a lot. 

“Well, you see” Liam said, smiling involuntarily, “Grimmy wanted a Malik, and I found that I quite fancied myself one too” He said, looking up behind Harry to where Zayn stood. He looked endearingly at the boy, almost proudly. Louis could see Zayn smiled back sheepishly, looking away quickly, embarrassed by the Liam’s assertion. Louis could sense that the sort of medal Liam wanted for a Malik was quite a bit different than the one Harry or Captain Grimshaw were excepting. Liam, in fact, looked as if he planned to put a ring on Zayn’s finger that very moment. 

“I see” Harry said, letting out something of a giggle, “I pray to God you can still rebuild ships Mr. Payne because our current carpenter is a load of shit and I’m not going to be the one to split up poor Li’ and his very own Malik” As Harry laughed and grabbed Liam’s hand to help him up Louis could only think of how Liam must have met Zayn. Had he paid for the boy? Surely he had, it wasn’t as if prostitutes just roamed the streets of Port Royal. _Did they?_ It wasn’t as if Louis were to know, he had never set foot in anything that could even vaguely be considered a pirate port. “I do have one condition: as of now, there will be no little brats on my ship, you hear? I won’t deal with the revolt that would be caused by a Malik grandchild,” Harry said, pointing his finger into Liam’s chest. He had maybe an inch on Liam, but he was slimmer, and looked almost like the boy’s younger brother. It was laughable, to see the young man use his authority on his friend. 

Liam only laughed as he ran a hand through his hair, “aye, I’ll try my best.” He embraced him quickly, before moving on to the blond man next to him “The whole gang’s back together, eh Niall?” He asked, wrapping his arms around the neck of the boy who must’ve been called Niall. “The boys of _The Mary_ , look at us now! ‘Sure aren’t powder monkeys and cabin boys anymore, are we?” He laughed. _So they are old friends_ Louis thought, _what a nice thing to see before my death._

Harry removed himself from the interaction as the boys continued to talk. Louis could feel the dread boil up in his stomach. _I don’t want to die here, I don’t want to die here_ he repeated to himself, over and over again until the words had lost their meaning and felt large and obtrusive in his mouth. “How old are you, boy?” Captain Styles asked, plainly. Louis hadn’t been expecting that, no, he’d been expecting the Captain to demand a case from Louis. 

“Eighteen, sir” Louis replied, following Zayn’s guideline as to how to address the Captain. At the very least Louis might be treated to a kinder death than the boy before Zayn if he addressed him properly.

The Captain squinted, “You don’t look it, boy, I don’t appreciate liars. Now why don’t we try that again, shall we?” he offered nicely, obviously taking pity on Louis. He was showing mercy to Louis, a trait he had heard the Captain was not exactly famous for. The dread began to crawl up Louis’s throat and he feared it might just rise out of him. His took a deep breath before daring to open his mouth again, forcing the feeling back into his stomach. 

“Going on seventeen, Captain” Louis said again, quieter now. He looked down to the wood planks that lined the deck, now stained with the blood of men he had never met, Louis swallowed deeply, only able to think that his own blood would surely join the stains very soon.

“That’s more like it,” Harry nodded, as if confirming the information with himself, “what’s your name boy?”

“It’s Louis, sir”

“And does ‘Louis’ have a surname?” The Captain condescended.

Louis swallowed again. A man such as Captain Styles would surely know the Austin name. Hell, he’d probably met his father. The Captain famously despised the Naval Officers who roamed the islands and would certainly not be happy allowing the son of a captain onto his ship. Louis Austin would ring a bell in his mind, no, Louis couldn’t tell him his last name. Louis floundered for a moment, searching for a last name that wouldn’t seem false, “Tomlinson, sir” it was his tutor’s last name, a name Harry could only relate to British islanders, if he knew it at all. 

“A runaway then? Didn’t fancy the life of a peasant, then?” Harry’s face remained steely. His hands were clasped behind his back and he had leaned towards where Louis kneeled. Maybe he had a chance here. Louis nodded. “What ‘ave you got to offer me Tomlinson? What ‘id you do on this _fine_ vessel”

The smallest of smiles snuck its way onto Louis face “was something of a cabin boy, I guess”

“What do you mean ‘something of a cabin boy’?”

“Captain Grimshaw found me on Hispaniola, said he was looking for a carrier. I’ve been on the ship three days, haven’t seen the outside of his cabin in as many” Louis breathed a quick laugh “He seemed to like to just look at me” Louis wondered briefly if he should have mentioned if he was a carrier. Perhaps he didn’t allow them on his boat. After all, the only carrier Louis knew of on the boat was Zayn and he was the son of the most famous pirate east of the Atlantic. 

“Are you carrying Grimmy’s bastard?” Harry asked rather bluntly.

“No sir”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve never engaged in relations with Captain Grimshaw, sir” Louis could hear the snickers of Harry’s men. _Engaged in relations_ they chuckled out behind Harry. Louis could feel his face growing hot as he looked down. He turned quickly, as if to silently threaten the next man who laughed.

That seemed to spring an idea into his head. “Can you read and write, Louis Tomlinson?” Harry enquired, again devoid of emotion. Louis nodded quickly. After all, it had been a real Tomlinson who had taught him. Louis couldn’t think of a reason a pirate would need to write, but perhaps Harry was organized; perhaps he made notes of their murders. “How do you feel about being a proper cabin boy, Tomlinson” Harry looked back at Liam, who was now standing by Zayn, a proper part of the crew, “haven’t ever had one of those, not since it was meself” Liam laughed, as if reminiscing about the good old days with him.

“I think I’d quite like that, sir” Louis said innocently. He wasn’t quite sure what being a “proper” cabin boy was, but it sounded much better than dying slowly at the hands of the sea, or the gun Niall still held. Louis shuttered at the thought. 

Niall came around his back, and for a moment Louis thought that perhaps he had judged his interaction with the Captain, and instead Niall had been given the signal to kill. No bullet came; instead Niall bent down to quickly release the rope that bound his wrists tightly. Louis whipped his arms around in front of him; he was almost surprised that he still had hands, as he looked them over. Louis’ joints creaked as he rose, but was thankful to relieve the pressure from his knees. He walked quickly and carefully towards the crew of _The Rose_ , fearing that Harry might change his mind. Harry smirks as he passes, looking Louis up and down. 

The next man is simply a pirate; he could wield a sword but not much else, he told Harry. He is maybe younger than even Louis and his cheeks were still filled out with baby fat as his eyes looked mournfully at Harry. He knew he was a goner. The Captain took pity on him in a sense. An offer of one’s choice death was certainly not what Louis considered to be pity, but the man looked at Harry so thankfully as he asked to be shot that Louis could only barely understand that this may be the most merciful act a pirate can make. The shot came quickly, from the Captain’s own gun, which seemed to be the utmost form of respect. The boy who was kneeling beside Louis a moment ago fell into the spot Louis had just occupied. Louis’ hand flew to his mouth suddenly. His throat was tight again. He had now seen two men die. 

Louis looked away for the next two shots, not wanting to raise his count of two men dead before his own eyes. He only turned his head back once he heard Harry’s voice again. “Grimmy’s keeping lasses now, eh? You couldn’t’ve been a whore, not on Grimmy’s ship, so how’d you end up here?” 

The girl scoffs, “Not a whore, Captain Styles. I was workin’ like all the rest of ‘im. Grimmy made me play cook sometimes, ‘bit of a git, if I’m honest” She laughed, looking at the corpse of her Captain not ten feet from her. “He was a bit prissy, if I’m honest with you Captain,” She snorted. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulder to fall across her face. Louis thought she must be quite pretty, the way Harry was speaking to her. He felt a mysterious sort of tug in his stomach. He certainly couldn’t be jealous of how the girl was speaking to the Captain. _No, he couldn’t be._

“I like your attitude, girl. I’ve only one lasse on this ship, and I can’t guarantee all me men will be too kind, but I can guarantee that you’ll be paid better than any other ship on this side of the Atlantic. What’d you say…?” Harry trailed off, realizing he had no idea what the woman’s name was. 

“M’ name’s Barbara, sir” Harry smiled, “and I guess I’ll take my chances with your men. I can handle a couple of pushy pirates, I reckon” Barbara smiled back at Styles as Niall came to undo her binds. 

With that Harry turned to Steve, “I’m done. Toss the rest, no need for extra blood on this deck” He turned to look at his crew, “men, get anything of value, I’m looking for coins, not the shit you think is pretty” Finally turned to Niall, “get these ones settled, will you? And get Barbara the hammock above Gemma, eh? Kick someone out if you have to” 

Harry walked off towards what had been Louis’ home for all his time as a pirate. Niall turn to the four new members of _The Rose_ ’s crew, motioning for them to follow him across the plank that had been set between the two ships. 

_The Rose_ was larger than _The Siren’s Spirit_ had been. It was also much better put together. The wood was polished and the mast was white as the snow Louis vaguely remembered from childhood winters in London. Niall directly took them below deck, not bothering to go over the parts of the boat like Captain Grimshaw had. He led them below the canons to the sleeping quarters. There some 40 hammocks hung from posts on the sides of the ship, stacked two high. “Here’s the sleeping quarters, second post on the left is free for the two of you” Niall smiled as he drove his elbow into Liam’s rib. Liam jolted back, his face breaking out into a grin. “I don’t reckon you have much to put by your beds but most of us have dropped our pistols, so that should do, for now.” Liam looked silently at Zayn before pulling his pistol from the holster, setting it quietly on the lower hammock. He then removed his sword from his other side and set it on the higher one. 

“Zayn doesn’t carry a handgun,” Liam said quickly, before smiling over at Zayn, “he’s more of a stationary gun boy” 

“Aye Liam, I don’t give a shit about your romantic life” Niall said, teasingly, “You, lasse, you’ll be down here with Gems. She’s nice once you get to know ‘er. You got a gun on you?” Niall asked as they walked to the other end of the sleeping quarters. Barbara reached for her pistol, tossing it on the last hammock on the right. Niall looked at her for a moment before simply nodding. “I’ll leave you three to settle in while I show Louis to Harry’s cabin” 

Niall began to walk towards the stairs again, this time pausing at a cupboard on the left to grab a hammock. He thrust the fabric and wooden slats into Louis arms without ceremony, before continuing up the stairs to the main deck. Across the deck to the door under the upper deck, Niall led. When they arrived in the cabin, Niall had little to say before divulging that he was hoping to get at least something from _The Siren’s Spirit_ and that he would trust Louis with putting up his hammock in the corner. 

Once left alone, Louis took a moment to look at Harry’s cabin. It was far different from Captain Grimshaw’s. Where Captain Grimshaw was flashy and seemed to love a bit of gold on all of his furniture, Harry was simple. His bed was a simple frame, make of the same wood as the whole ship and all that joined it in the room was a desk and chest. The only peculiar thing in the cabin was a vase of roses on the desk. What use were roses on a pirate ship? Surely they would wilt in a day or two. Behind the door there were two posts, similar to the ones Louis had seem below deck in the sleeping quarters, but instead of being freestanding these were attached to the cabin’s wall. 

Louis knew knots from his tutors, who had imagined he would become a Naval Officer like his father. _Ha, if only the real Tomlinson could see him now!_ Tying up a hammock in pirate captain’s cabin was certainly not what Mr. Tomlinson had envisioned when he forced nine year old Louis to spend hours practicing his knots.

“Did you have things in the ship?” A voice from behind Louis asked. Louis whipped around with the string of his hammock still looped through his fingers. Behind him was Captain Styles, leaning against the frame of the door. He’d taken his hat off and Louis could finally see the mess of curls on his head properly. When he ran his hands through them, the smooth metal of his rings would clash awfully nicely against his dark hair. His eyes bore into Louis as he waited his reply. 

“No, sir” Louis said quickly, shaking his head as he spoke. His fingers found the string again and he nervously weaved them through it. 

Harry’s head fell against the frame of the door, without breaking his stare. “A real runaway then? You never see those these days, too many prissy boys who pack bags, ‘gotta do it the old fashioned way, eh?” 

“I guess, sir” Louis spoke as innocently as he could. He wasn’t sure what Captain Styles meant by that, but he figured agreeing would be best. 

“What was it? Navy?” Harry enquired. 

_I was being sent to marry a man I’d never met_ “Yes sir” 

“Aye,” Harry paused, “enough with the sirs, alright? My men call me Captain, got that” 

“Yes, Captain” Louis nodded.

“Is this an audience with the King? You’re a pirate, boy, it’s ‘aye, Captain’” Harry instructed awfully seriously. Louis began to wonder if he corrected all of his crew, or if Louis were the only one to mess it up. God, he’d been a pirate for three days and he couldn’t even get the verbatim right! 

“Aye, Captain” Louis corrected. After a moment, Harry smiled. He pushed himself off of the doorframe and looked as if he were about to go. His final movement was to knock his fist lightly against the frame and hesitating a moment before turning to leave Louis alone again.


	2. 1.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis begins to understand what a pirate's life is like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're looking for a map to reference, this is the one that is pretty similar to the land claims of the time. It's helpful   
> http://www.emersonkent.com/map_archive/north_america_1700.htm
> 
> This one is a little shorter because I have a feeling the next one is going to be longer.

They sunk _The Siren’s Spirit_ at sun down. The sound of canons firing shook Louis from his place on his hammock. His body hit the wall rather hard as the hammock swung from the reverberations. All Louis could think of is the bodies of the men shot that day sinking into the sea. He had always heard that dead men float. Would their bodies float on the waters until they fell apart? Would sharks flock to them? Louis shivered at the thought. 

Captain Styles hadn’t returned after his initial conversation with Louis, who hadn’t been told whether or not he was permitted to leave the Captain’s quarters, had thought it best it best to avoid an possible confrontation and thus had stayed in his hammock all evening. The ship made him uneasy. It wasn’t like _The Siren’s Spirit_ with its gold and comfort; no, _The Rose_ was a real pirate ship. And it wasn’t full of teenage boys trying to be pirates; no, men with real pirating experience inhabited _The Rose_ , one’s who had killed and lost limbs and eyes fighting. _The Rose_ was surely home to vermin Louis had never seen before, and _where on earth did these men bathe?_ The ship swayed side to side as moved, creaking as it went, and every time the boat rocked, Louis was rocked rather uncomfortably into the cabin’s wall. Very quickly, Louis realized that he had left the life of comfort and luxury he had always experienced behind. _God, what had he done?_

Louis could feel the sun setting from the window behind him, the heat of the Caribbean sun fading into the turquoise sea. _This is it_ , Louis thought; this was his first night as a proper pirate on a proper ship, as a “proper cabin boy” as Captain Styles had called him. _What did that even mean?_ Louis wondered. Was he the Captain’s whore? Louis could only imagine the sort of suffering Zayn had experience on Port Royal, was he to suffer too? The thought of poor Zayn, too pretty for his own good made Louis want to gag. He could just imagine pirate after pirate forcing little bags of gold coins into Zayn’s hands in some shithole whorehouse. God, he shouldn’t have done this. How bad could whoever his parents were sending him to have been? Certainly he wouldn’t have been a ruthless pirate who intended to fuck Louis into submission. _I’ve got to get out of here_. 

Once the sun had drowned in the sea and only the stars illuminated the room, Louis resolved that it was best to just sleep. Perhaps if he were already asleep he could avoid the Captain until the morning. At the very least he could plead with him then. Louis had all but fallen asleep when the door suddenly swung open, hitting him in the hip. 

“Oh sorry, mate. Harry said I ought to come and get you to eat, grub’s getting cold out ‘ere” Niall said as he pulled the door back, away from Louis. Louis sat up quickly, knocking his back against the wall hard. Wincing, he hopped off his hammock following Niall’s lead out on to the deck. 

On the deck, all the men were sat near the mast in little circles, holding metal plates and mugs as they talked loudly. Niall led Louis to the circle where Harry sat atop a crate, looking down upon the crewmembers that sat around him. He was deep in conversation with Liam who sat across from him, leaning towards him much like he had with Louis earlier that day. As Louis approached, he turned his head towards him, looking him up and down again as he had when Louis had joined his crew. _God, I’ve got to get out of here_. 

Liam looked at him too, and thrust a plate towards him. Louis took it carefully, looking at the plate of grey slop on it. Never in his life had Louis eaten something unidentifiable, never had he eaten something that colour either. Not daring to touch it, Louis took a seat next to Zayn instead. Niall thrust a cup of something at him as well. Louis had smelt beer before, but never drunk it. But He could feel Harry’s eyes trained on him, and for the first time in his life, Louis _needed_ a drink. It tasted like watered down piss with an aftertaste that made him want to gag. Louis took another sip. Vowing silently that he would never again drink something so vile. Louis downed the whole cup. 

“Whoa boy, don’t get ahead of yourself there” Liam laughed, loudly. Reaching across Zayn to hit him lightly in the arm. Louis suddenly felt very young. As if some older brother he’d never had was sneaking him into a pub. Liam felt comforting to a certain extend, until of course, he made Louis incredibly uncomfortable. This was a pirate. This was the sort of man who murdered people without a second thought. This was the sort of man who bought seventeen year old prostitutes on Port Royal. 

Zayn leaned over to Louis quietly once Liam had returned to his conversation with Harry, “I’s vile isn’t it?” Zayn offered his cup to Louis, “try this, it gets to the floaty feeling faster”. This time the drink was difficult to swallow and stung as it went down. The biting aftertaste of it made Louis’ throat close up as it neared the back of his mouth. Louis could feel himself making a face as he fought to swallow some more. Zayn laughed at him quietly, “You’ll like it better soon, just don’t overdo it; you’ll be vomiting all over the deck if you do, and I doubt Harry will take too kindly to that”. Louis took another sip of the liquor, swallowing a little easier now. 

Suddenly his head felt funny. _Very funny_. He felt distant but there, light but still all his weight: almost dizzy, but not as though he had spun around too many time. Louis looked quickly at Zayn, as if to check that this was what he was meant to be feeling. Zayn just nodded at him, before leaning his body into Liam’s and asking him to get Zayn some more rum. Louis did feel awfully floaty, just like Zayn had said he would. It was nearly impossible to put a word to - this feeling. If this was being drunk, Louis found that he quite enjoyed it. 

Without a drink, Louis was forced to look at his food again; else he would be forced to look at Captain Styles, who Louis could feel staring at him. The pile of slop on his plate was worrisome at best. It was mostly a shade of off white with shreds of something that looked almost like it was meat. “It’s beans and chicken boy” Harry said, finally, after Louis had looked curiously at it for one minute too long, “you’ll live to tell about it”. 

Louis jerked his head up to look at the Captain. Harry’s smirk made Louis awfully uneasy. His eyes bore into Louis, this impermeable stare he had was not one of the things that had reached the rumor mill of Hispaniola. Part of Louis wished it had, at least then he would have been prepared for this ordeal. Harry’s finger came to play with his bottom lip and Louis could see the mess of rings on his fingers. The rumor had always been that a pirate took a ring from each Captain he had killed. Had Harry really killed some ten other Captains? His face was far too nice looking to house such a terrible man. Every so often, between the smirks and gazing eyes Louis would catch a glimpse of a man that fit Harry more. A man who had thoughts and feelings: an actual man. 

They stared at each other for another moment, before Liam returned with a cup of rum for both Zayn and Louis. “Aye, Beckham! None for us?” Niall exclaimed, thrusting his own cup towards Liam. 

Louis, who had just taken another sip of his drink, turned to Niall rather suddenly.   
“Beckham?” Louis realized after speaking that that was the first word he had said since he’d spoken to Harry that afternoon. It felt strange to speak now, to speak in front of the entire crew. He felt silly, but maybe that was the rum talking. 

Niall laughed, “aye, that’s Liam’s sailing name. He was a bit of a legend back in the good days” He said as he elbowed Liam in the ribs, seemingly rather hard. 

“Why does he need a different name to sail?” Louis asked without thinking. If it weren’t for the rum in his body he would have kept his mouth shut, but his curiosity was getting the best of him. He was starting to feel a bit like bits of time were missing: that every time he opened his eyes it were a moment or two later than it should have been. 

“Li’s got family back in Charlestown, ‘doesn’t want the Navy comin’ after them” Niall explained, “lots of us have them, unless you’re Zayn and your family are pirates or you’re me and don’t give a shit what happens to ‘em.” Niall spoke with such ease about his family that Louis was tempted to ask, but even in his strange state Louis could sense that this was not the time for backstories. 

The rum was really starting to make Louis feel funny. He felt as he was yelling: not able to hear the volume of his own voice. Or maybe he was just not able to process it. “So Styles isn’t your real name?” he asked Harry without thinking. That was probably frowned upon: to ask a Captain about his past, but the alcohol was making it seem more than okay. After all, Harry thought he was pretty, and pretty people got answers to their questions. 

“Yeah, it is. The only family I’ve got is Gems” Harry said, easily. _Pretty people do get answers_ Louis thought. Harry motioned to a girl Louis had failed to notice sitting with them. She was pretty like Harry, but namely female. She had hair like Harry’s and Louis could only imagine in the dark of the night that her eyes were similar. He must have been Harry’s sister; or else Harry was so much of a narcissist that he only fancied people who looked just like him.

“Do you have one Louis?” Zayn asked quietly. He seemed like such a shy boy, as apposed to the man who had handled a cruel pirate Captain with incredible tact just that afternoon. His eyes were wide at Louis, which made him look younger than he was. 

“No, I haven’t been a pirate long enough to have one I reckon” Louis said, inexplicably smiling. He looked at Zayn happily for a moment before he heard the exasperated cough of Harry, calling them back to attention. Perhaps he had been looking a moment too long. No, perhaps Harry had contracted a cold. _We shall never know_ , Louis thought happily, sipping his drink again and chasing the floating feeling as it began to fade. 

“You’ve got family, though?” Harry said, staring again. What did Harry care about his family? Even then, Louis had no family under the Tomlinson name. But, if Mr. Tomlinson were to be come for because of Louis, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. Louis nodded. “Well then, we best find you a name, then. Let’s see, Tomlinson, Tom, Tommy, Tommo. Aye, Tommo!” Harry exclaimed as he landed upon the right one. 

“Aye, Tommo!” The men all around Louis exclaimed, bringing their cups together, crashing them and spilling liquor all over the deck. 

The ruckus of the night dragged on until Louis was dozing off onto Zayn as the first lights of the morning filtered into the sea and open sky above them. Slowly the men all around Louis began to file into the staircase towards the sleeping quarters. Soon enough Liam was hauling Zayn away from him. 

“C’mon then, Tommo” Harry said, getting up from his place on the crate. He started to walk towards his cabin as Louis scrambled up to stand. Following the Captain into the room Louis could only think that this must be the time when his role as cabin boy came into play. 

As Harry shrugged off his overcoat and laid it over the chair by the desk all the alcohol still in Louis’ system took control of his mouth as he suddenly spoke, “am I your whore?” Harry whipped his head around to look at Louis. Not with the smirk or stare Louis had come to expect over the course of the night, but instead with a look of such utter disbelief and genuine confusion. 

“What, boy?” Harry asked, as if sure he had heard wrong. 

“Is that why I’m here? To be your whore?” Louis asked again. This time it wasn’t the alcohol talking. Louis was sure of that. 

“What?” Harry said again, before sobering up quite a bit to speak again “no Louis, you aren’t here to be my whore, you’re here to do my paperwork” _What sort of paperwork did pirates have?_ “Now go to sleep before you say anything else you might regret.”

+++ 

Louis awoke to being slammed into the wall of the boat. _Christ, who saw this a fit place to put a hammock!_ He groaned rather loudly before realizing he was probably not alone. He rolled out of his hammock and rubbed his eyes to clear them of the glaze that had settled on them overnight. 

Once he was no longer blind with sleep in his eyes he could see Harry sitting at his desk, looking at a pile of papers. “Louis, I need you to sign this” He said without even sparing a look at him. Putting a quill up for Louis to see. 

Taking the quill from Harry’s hand Louis felt it fit to enquire about what exactly it was Harry wanted him to sign, “what is this?”

“It’s the crew contract. Standard stuff, a share of all booty collected by the ship, compensation for all injuries sustained, no killing another crew member” Harry said casually, still looking at the papers. _Pirates had contracts?_ “Sign it as Tommo, just in case” Harry advised.

Louis went along with the signing, despite the fact that he was slightly confused by the idea of a pirate contract. He didn’t bother to read it, figuring that if there was some gruesome catch to being part of the crew he would rather not know. He signed along with the names of all the crew, some 50 names at the bottom of the last page, each in varying degrees of legibility. The only one that struck him most was a rather large, shakily written “HARRY” near the top of the space. It looked not dissimilar to the handwriting of Louis youngest sister, who was just over 3. _Could Harry not write?_ Louis thought back to the conversation from early that morning, when Harry had told him that he was there “to do my paperwork”, Captain Harry Styles must be illiterate.

Harry set the quill back down on the desk, next to the vase of roses, which were beginning to look as though they had already seen their best days. “We’ll hit Tortuga by this evening, we’re stopping there for the night” Harry told him quietly, still not making eye contact with him. Louis had grown up far from any ports near Tortuga, but even then its presence was felt. Children on Hispaniola were told over and over the sort of horror that occurred on Tortuga: murder, crime, drunkenness, and god forbid, homosexuality. Louis had always found it funny how the English families of Hispaniola publicly condemned even the idea of homosexuality, but behind closed doors sent their carrier sons off to England to marry men. 

The rebellious part of Louis reveled in the idea of Tortuga, especially the idea of his father catching wind of his son visiting such a place. The logical part of Louis was terrified. Louis hadn’t even spoken to the other pirates on board, let alone pirates from other ships. Tortuga would be filled with them, bursting at the seams with the sort of men Louis had always been warned against. Instead of inquiring to Harry about what Tortuga would be like, Louis simply nodded, slipping out of the cabin. 

The deck was filled with men, doing various jobs around the ship. To his left sat Liam with his arm around Zayn, sitting on the stairs up to the upper deck. The two of them were seemingly just looking at the view, so Louis saw it fit to join them. Sitting on the stair below the two of them, Liam greeted him kindly. There was still something about the idea that Liam had been a pirate for long enough to have built himself a reputation that made Louis uncomfortable. _He was just so nice._ He was what Louis had always imagined his father was meant to be like. Yet, he was dating a boy Louis’ own age. This man was not someone to look up to as a father, no; this was a man with seriously messed up morals. But then again, Louis himself was now a pirate. _Christ, I’m a pirate._

“Hey Lou,” Zayn said tiredly. There were now bags lining his bright eyes, after what was decidedly a long night. “’You hear we’re headed to Tortuga?” His head was resting on Liam’s shoulder endearingly; Louis was torn between feeling jealous and extremely uncomfortable. Mostly he didn’t understand how Zayn could have possibly fallen for someone who had bought him. Louis nodded. “It really isn’t that bad, I mean if you’re alone you’ll probably get sold onto another ship, but you’ll be with Li and I, and probably Harry.” Zayn said it in such a way that made it seem as if kidnapping were not a hardship at all. It struck Louis that Zayn had grown up in these sorts of places. The idea of being kidnapped, for Zayn at least, was just a possibility to accept and take necessary steps to avoid, rather than fear. Perhaps that was why he was willing to date a man in his mid-twenties. Maybe that was just standard procedure among pirates. But still. Zayn had been bought, not found or met. Liam had seen him as something of a commodity rather than a human being. Surely that was unheard of, even among pirates. 

“It’ll be fun, I promise” Liam smiled at him warmly, patting his hand onto Louis’ shoulder, “I went down to Tortuga, the first time, when I was 13, I remember feeling like I was on top of the world. You just say no to any ship recruiter and tell ‘em you’re with Harry, they’ll mostly leave you alone then.” Louis couldn’t resist the feeling of comfort Liam gave him, much like he his mild, _mild_ , attraction to his Captain. 

That was the first time he had admitted it in the sober light of day. There wasn’t all that much to accept, really. Harry was pretty, that was all there was too it really. It was simply an observation on the behalf of Louis. He was simply stating a fact on behalf of all people with eyes. Yeah, it was just an observation. 

“Boy” The familiar voice of Harry called out to him from the open cabin door, “I need you for something.” Knowing better than to disobey Harry, Louis leapt to his feet as swiftly as he possibly could, running down the two stairs towards his Captain. 

“Yes, sir?” He asked, immediately regretting his choice of title. Surely Harry had noticed his word choice. Perhaps that was some point of distress for Harry. Perhaps he went on rampages at the sound of it. 

Harry was quiet for a moment and Louis was all but certain that in a moment there would be a bullet in the back of his head. Harry stared again, just as he had the night before when they had been sat across from each other on the deck. He looked for one last moment before dropping his head to sigh exasperatedly. Louis expected a blow of some sort to come, but instead Harry just looked up at him again, this time the light of his eyes filtered through his eyelashes. Louis could see his hand flinch quickly towards him, but Harry pulled it back, thinking better of whatever he was going to do. “Need you to write my records from yesterday, I’ll tell you what to say, just write quickly” He spoke as he turned away from Louis, to lead him back into the Captain’s quarters. 

And that’s how Louis spent his afternoon, copying down Harry’s various observations about the day before. Including detailed descriptions of each death he had caused on the deck of _The Siren’s Spirit_. It was gruesome to say the least as Harry spoke tiredly about clean shots, or ones that missed and didn’t kill immediately. It was the worst to hear Harry speak about the boy who died after Louis had been chosen. The way he spoke about the feeling of the gun in his hand and the sound of the boy’s body hitting the deck. For a man who couldn’t write, Harry sure was graphic with his words. 

He never mentioned Louis. Maybe it was courtesy, because Louis was in the room with him, but Louis wasn’t getting the impression that Harry was particularly concerned with the manners. Every so often Harry would begin to speak, then stop suddenly, rethinking his words, the first couple of times Louis thought he might just be particularly considerate of his words, but slowly Louis began to catch on to the fact that anytime he was beginning to speak about Louis, he would stop. _But why?_


	3. 1.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night in Tortuga reveals some cracks in Harry's facade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done a lot of research for this, so firstly, if you have a question about anything, I'll answer it gladly. But secondly, I try not to mention or do things that wouldn't have existed. But I took creative freedom on the following: 
> 
> The word teenager (which didn't exist until the 20th century)  
> The music (which didn't sound as its described)  
> And red roses (which wouldn't have made their way to North America yet)  
> Thanks.  
> UPDATE: 3am me is bad at proofing, so I've fixed the plethora of errors now.

“I know what you’re thinkin’, you know” Zayn said, as the two of them leaned against the bar in the pub, watching one of the men from their crew try to play the fiddle, although he had obviously never picked one up before that moment. He hopped around drunkenly, playing one squeaky note after another, pretending to be playing a song _“none of them had heard of”_. Louis tore his head away from the horrendous display to look at Zayn. “I’d think it too, you know,” Zayn said, “If it were you.”

Louis was confused to say that least, “what are you talking about?” He hadn’t even been aware of what it was he was thinking, and so, was awfully taken by the fact that Zayn did. 

“You know: Li’,” He paused a moment, “like how on earth could someone fall in love with a man who bought ‘em, right? I can tell that’s what you’re thinkin’ every time you look at ‘im. It’s understandable, really, just i’s not how it really was, you know?” 

This felt like the best time to ask about backstories: when they were alone, and only a little bit drunk off of free drinks expectant pirates had bought them. “How was it really, then?” Louis pressed. 

Zayn smiled, “well, it started off the way it always did, right. Like he came to the house and like originally he wanted a girl, but they were all occupied, so he got me instead. And like he fucked me and paid me and I thought that was it. I mean I thought he was hot, but I wasn’t exactly upset when he left.” Zayn laughed then, looking over to where Liam was sat with some of the other men from _The Rose_. “And then he kept coming back. Like for two straight weeks. He’s lucky _The Mary_ and whatever other ships he was on in between, paid him good, ‘cause I don’t know how he afforded it! By then I thought he was nice. Like the sex was good and I thought he just _really_ liked it. Eventually we started talking after, just chatting about things; we’ve both got sisters, so we talked about that a lot, but then we started _just_ talking. An’ you hear rumours about the guys who just hire prostitutes ‘cause they’ve got no friends, but Li’ seemed like he actually liked me. Like he kissed me goodbye and shit when he’d sleep over” 

Louis could see how affected Zayn was by even the simplest act of being kissed goodbye. It was frankly upsetting that boy Louis’ very own age had been fucked by enough guys that even being kissed was a luxury. He was collapsing in on himself, as if embarrassed by his emission. He must have known that it was sad that he felt that way about a kiss. 

“And then there’s finally one night where I’ve got a client with me in me room, right, and Li’ shows up to see me. They obviously don’t let him go up, so he waited in the foyer until I was done and all he says when I walk the guy out is ‘how much to buy you out of here?’” Zayn’s fond smile hadn’t faded throughout the entirety of his story, but it grew wider then, “an’ he paid the whole thing. Like he actually bought me out of a whorehouse. An’ like I know I don’t owe ‘im anything, he tells me enough, but that was nearly six months ago, and I think I’ve fallen in love with ‘im, now” 

All of a sudden, as if called by the mention of “love”, Liam appeared next to Zayn, burying his head into Zayn’s clavicle. “You alright?” He asked, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s waist. 

“Yeah, I was just tellin’ Louis about how we met” Zayn said, quickly kissing Liam’s mouth. Well _quickly_ might not be the word Louis would have used. After a moment, when Liam had moved to stand between Zayn’s legs, effectively pining him against the bar counter, Louis decided it best to order himself another drink. 

Just as he’d opened his mouth to order, a voice appeared beside him, “whatever the cute one’s havin’ and a cup of your best ale” Turning to see who had ordered his drink, Louis saw a man in his late thirties. His hair was greasy and slicked back, his clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks. _Then again_ , Louis thought, _it wasn’t as if they have people to wash their clothes_. 

The barmaid handed the glass of rum to him and Louis took small sip before looking to the man again, “thank you” he said quietly, careful of what Zayn had said about kidnapping. This man was large enough to do it if he wanted to, and Louis was definitely small enough that he couldn’t fight back. If he was to be kidnapped, getting him drunk seemed like it might be a very good plan. Suddenly, Louis wasn’t as thankful as he was before. He set the drink back down on the counter, a little bit further than he normally would have put it from himself. Realistically, Louis knew that Zayn and Liam were still with him (although occupied) but even then, Louis felt so unsafe. 

Louis had had guards outside his house from the day he was born, keeping anyone not on an approved list away from his family. He had lived in this comfortable bubble where no person with intent to hurt him had ever come even within quite a few metres of him. Now, Louis was effectively alone with a man who might grab him at any moment. 

When Louis took a moment to think about it, this was exactly what had happened when Captain Grimshaw approached him. _Christ, was that only four days ago!_ When Louis had been in one of the bars frequented by pirates, searching desperately for anyone to take him anywhere, it had been Nicolas Grimshaw who came to him first. He’d barely been there ten minutes before Captain Grimshaw was on him, talking him up. Louis couldn’t blame himself for being intrigued, after all, he was still sixteen, and had never had a boy come to talk to him before. Captain Grimshaw had chatted him up for not fifteen minutes before Louis had offhandedly mentioned he was a carrier. He hadn’t thought much of it; pirates wouldn’t give a shit whether or not he could have children, but Grimshaw was immediately stuck on it. He asked question after question about it, prying into Louis’ past, the health of his family, his age, his life. Louis probably should have seen it as a warning sign, but he had just been so desperate to get out of Hispaniola. So when an offer of becoming part of his crew was given, Louis had jumped at it, without a second thought. 

Now, standing at he bar with this new man, Louis knew he wasn’t desperate. He was part of a crew with a reputation. He had a job, even if it was just to copy down whatever the Captain said. He had, at least some semblance of, friends who wouldn’t let him just disappear, hopefully. 

“So boy,” The man said, and Louis could suddenly only think of the way his own Captain called him that. _Captain Styles, not Harry, Captain_. It sounded so strange coming from this raspy tone, instead of the butter-soft drawl Styles always spoke in. “You looking for a ship? My crew could use a pretty little thing like you. Good for morale, you know?” 

Louis froze for a moment. Quickly looking to his other side, only to find that Zayn and Liam had left him. He choked on his own saliva before stuttering out “I…I” dumbly. _Fuck_. Louis was about to be taken by this man, probably blindfolded, and thrown onto a boat to be a whore. As the man drew closer, Louis’ breath began to stick to his throat, his stomach flooded with nerves and he could feel himself growing hot. 

The man’s hand want to Louis’ face, caressing his cheek in a way that may have intended to be endearing, but was instead incredible disturbing. He moved in front of Louis, with his hands on either side of Louis’ hips, to trap him against the bar. Louis was breathing hard now, frozen in his place. 

“Oi, get off of ‘im” Louis heard, emanating from his right, near the door. He didn’t dare to look, too paralyzed by the man in front of him. 

The man’s hands suddenly released, freeing Louis from the trap he’d been in. He whipped his head towards the door to the pub, only to find none other than Harry Styles, hat and all, looking as if he might murder the man. “Ah, _the young Captain_ , this one’s caught your fancy too? Guess you’ll have to find another one, then” He laughed, looking condescendingly at him, staying close to Louis. 

Harry, who obviously didn’t take well to being looked down upon, was at the man’s throat within a second. The captain looked at the man for a moment before slowly taking his gun from the holster. Suddenly the pub, once bursting with energy, was silent. Louis could feel every eye in the building trained on the interaction in front of him, and in turn, Louis himself. Harry raised the gun to the man’s head. He wore the same face he’d had when he killed the man on the deck the day before. It was as if he had turned to stone, as if he had stepped away from his body for a moment, leaving only a skeleton to hold the pistol. “You so much as look at ‘im one more time I won’t hesitate to pull this trigger, you hear?” The skeleton said. The man nodded, running quickly from the pub, not looking back for even a moment. 

Louis could see the life drain back into Harry’s body. His muscles relaxed, his face gaining its emotion. It looked as if he were a statue, coming to life, again. Harry Styles perplexed Louis. How could a man just turn himself off from emotion, like that? How could a man drain himself from his own body at will? 

Eventually, Harry looked to Louis. It was almost as if his soul had come back to all but his eyes as they looked at him with a look so devoid of emotion, that Louis feared Harry would never return. “Come on then, there’s no one to protect you here” He said as he grabbed Louis’ arm and dragged him from the pub. 

Louis couldn’t help but feel awfully silly, being dragged down the streets of Tortuga by a famous pirate captain. He was reminded of his mother, when he would do something wrong as a child. She would always drag him by his ear back to the house. It was almost laughable. He had traded being reprimanded by his mother to be dragged around by pirates. _What had he done?_ “Where are we going?” Around Louis the streets were dark and grey, lined with beaten down cobblestones and torches simmering with fire all around. People leaned against the stone building that bordered the back alley he’d been dragged down. There were men laughing and singing with each other in the streets, men drinking openly, and most surprising of all, men kissing. 

Louis found it quite strange that of all people, it was pirates who were the ones who allowed homosexuality. Louis had never seen a man kiss another one in his life. It happened behind closed doors, sure, it wasn’t as if Louis had never kissed a boy, but never in public. On the islands, kissing boys had to be done in secret, in servants’ hallways or deep in the wooded areas. Seeing men kiss in the middle of a street, in a populated town, just felt wrong. 

At home, a family would be so ashamed of their carrier son that he would often be sent away the second it was discovered. It wasn’t uncommon for the smaller boys to suddenly go missing. Louis himself had had friends who disappeared without a moment’s notice, when he was young. Louis’ mum had been calm about it. It became obvious when he was about seven, when he was far frailer than the other boys on the island, despite being the best fed. His mother had insisted that he stay with them, not be sent back to England, to some awful school. Louis’ father had always, when he was home at least, been adamant that Louis could not stay. The compromise, of course, was that once Louis was old enough, he would be sent back to England to marry some noble. The term “marry” was to be used loosely, as a way to cover up the fact that he would not be actually marrying the man but rather having his children instead of his wife. 

Tortuga was loud, and Louis found it hard to think among the cheers and songs of drunken men. He realized, that Harry had not answered his question, instead choosing to just pull him further into the back streets. All Louis could see of him was his black overcoat, hat, and curls, blown back by the Caribbean wind. As they moved away from the main streets, the torches began to thin out, leaving them in darkness. It dawned on Louis that Harry had not looked back at him for even a moment since they’d left the pub. He had been looking straight forward, at a destination he clearly knew the way to, judging by the confident way he weaved through streets without so much as looking at the other options. 

The people had started to thin out too. The noise of Tortuga was left behind them and what replaced it was soft, quiet, and calm. It was the first time in four days when Louis had felt calm. It was certainly not the most calming of situations, being towed around a pirate port after dark, but Louis felt at peace. It sounded like home. The crickets were sounding off just as they did at home and the stars looked the same. Truthfully, Louis wasn’t all that far from home. He was just on the other side of a channel from his own island. He could go home. Hell, he could probably even swim home! He could see his sisters and brother again, god he missed them. Perhaps his father would reconsider, if he saw what Louis was willing to do. Surely having a pirate for a son was more disgraceful than a carrier. But then again, he was a pirate now, signed on to a contract with _The Rose_ and all. There was no going back there. No one would accept him now. _Troy Austin’s son: a fucking pirate!_ The people would spread through the streets of Hispaniola as soon as anyone caught word of it. It would be such huge news in his town. But fuck, the disgrace his family must feel! His mum wouldn’t even be able to look at him! 

In all his internal turmoil, he had failed to see that Harry had stopped walking, stopping in front of a wooden door, dark from even the inside. Surely if Harry intended to kill him, he would have already gotten around to it. He wouldn’t have wasted food and rum on Louis, he was far too smart for that. Trusting him, Louis followed Harry into the dark building. 

A candle was suddenly struck alive far into the build, way at the back of the room. Around Louis were _things_ , skinny things with bigger tops. Just out of vision’s reach, the light only illuminated the silhouettes of these things, but as the candle grew closer, Louis began to see: all around him, were flowers. Positively beautiful flowers. Tropical flowers and wild one, ones that looked more like small trees and ones who’s petals were so tiny they looked only like balls in the dim light. Louis had grown up around beautiful things, but never in his life had he seen such a display as this. Tables were piled high with pots of various types of flowers. The floor was lined with the same pots. Some were on chairs, others high on shelves. This place was bursting at the seams from these blossoms. 

“Harry?” a women’s voice called out. She was young, maybe a couple years older than Louis, but definitely much younger than Harry. She was clearly quite beautiful, which her long black hair braided down her back. She wore a simple dress, one of plain cotton, but the jewels in her ears and around her neck made it quite obvious that she was not a regular merchant. The jewellery was heavy with gold and rubies. English jewellers certainly hadn’t made them. Not even an island jeweller would have been able to construct such things. Her earrings were heavy, and Louis feared that the earrings might fall out of her lobes from the weight of them. _Had Harry had him tag along on a trip to see a high-end prostitute?_ She moved close to Harry and Louis though she might just kiss him, but instead threw her arms around him and held him with all her might for a few moments. When she pulled back, she looked intently into his eyes and asked, “Do you have him?” 

Louis’ heart skipped a beat for a moment. _Had she been expecting Louis?_ Why would this woman want him? Louis froze as Harry opened his mouth in a smile. 

“Aye, I do. He’s just fine I promise you,” the women noticeably released her tension, “he’s brought a boy with ‘im, Doniya” Was he speaking about Zayn? But, how? And why? Why would this woman want to know about whether or not Zayn was with Harry? And how would she have known? Harry couldn’t have been planning to raid _The Siren’s Spirit_ , could he? 

Louis was torn from his wonderings with a sharp intake of breath from the woman, Doniya, “A boy!” 

Harry only laughed, nodding his head at the young woman, “He’s an old friend of mine, and I promise he’s a fine lad” Harry said, putting his hands on Doniya’s arms to sooth her. Louis noticed a sudden switch in the way Harry spoke. On the ship, he spoke like a pirate. Like one of the lower class. But here, with this woman, he spoke like a noble. He spoke like those Louis had always spoken to. Why was he speaking differently? 

“Has he said anything about visiting us while you’re here?” She asked, suddenly, worriedly. 

“No,” Harry said, keeping his hands on her, “I reckon he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t want to talk about Port Royal to you, and I reckon he most certainly doesn’t want to introduce Liam to you. You have to remember Doni’, he’s still young” Harry spoke about Zayn as if he had known the boy for more than 24 hours. He spoke with the sort of insight an older brother might have, not the boy’s captain. It was disconcerting to see Harry speak in such a way. A way that shed all of his cruelty and superiority. A way that made Louis think he might actually care for something other than wealth and blood. Even if that thing was Zayn. Louis ignored the pang in his chest. “I’ll have him come by in the morning, I’m sure the men won’t mind having a morning to shop. They earned quite a lot thanks to Zayn” 

Doniya threw her arms around Harry again, this time smiling brightly as she held him. Again, Louis felt a strange sort of discomfort within him. 

When she had pulled away, she wiped her hands quickly on the front of her dress. Before brushing the stray hairs from her face and looking back to Harry with a much more serious, business-like look, “now, do you need roses, love?” 

“Aye. Same as always, red, freshest you have. I don’t know when I’ll find another flower shop next” Harry smiled as Doniya ran to the back of the store and rummaged through pot after pot in search of her best red roses. 

As she foraged, she looked to Harry again, “I forgot to ask, who’s this?” Louis realized that he had not so much as been acknowledged since their arrival. Louis himself looked to Harry for an answer. Too scared that after the last some twenty minutes of not speaking, his voice might crack. 

“This is Louis, Doni. He was on Grimmy’s ship with Zayn. He my new cabin boy” 

Doniya only raised her eyebrows. 

“No, love, my real cabin boy. He does the writing for me” 

Doniya’s eyebrows remained high. Nonetheless, she returned to Harry with a dozen perfect red roses. He mumbled a thank you as the flowers were put into his hands. “Off you go then, the night is still young. I reckon your _cabin boy_ here would like to go dancing” Doniya said as she shooed them out of her store. She spoke as if she didn’t believe what Harry was telling her about Louis. Harry sighed, and allowed himself to be pushed out by the young woman. 

Once they were out on the back alley again, Doniya stopped Harry one last time, whispering something into his ear before pushing him into the street. She was much shorter than him, so she rose to her tiptoes to speak, resting her hands on his shoulder for balance. Louis felt almost angry with her for touching his captain. _His captain_. 

With that, he and Louis set off back towards the main streets of Tortuga. By the second turn Louis couldn’t contain his interest any longer, “I thought you didn’t know Zayn was on _The Siren’s Spirit_ , you said you hadn’t heard” 

Harry looked at him, his eyes looking straight through him, as they often did. This was the Harry who had described the murder of a young boy for his journal, not the one who had been speaking to Doniya, “You really think that in a full fortnight, I wouldn’t have heard of the Malik boy being aboard Grimmy’s ship?” His stare was unnerving. Louis found himself trapped in this never ending cycle of being positive that Harry did not plan to kill him, only to be followed directly by being absolutely sure that he was about to die. He had only asked a simple question, but perhaps it was just too informal to ask a captain. 

“I-“ Louis started, only to be interrupted by Harry. 

“You’ll find, Louis, that people around here are awfully willing to trade information for gold. And, of course, those who aren’t so willing, can be persuaded _very_ easily” He said as he motioned to the pistol sitting at his hip. The gun was easy to ignore when Harry was smiling and caring, as he had been around Doniya, but glaringly obvious when he got like this. This was the Harry that would shoot. With Doniya, Louis knew without a thought that he would not have even have touched his gun in her presence, let alone fired it, but here, looking at Louis with those eyes, he wasn’t so sure. 

“But why?” Louis asked, now careful. He spoke as though he were younger than he was: voice high and slow. 

“Doniya is his sister.” Harry explained, “She wanted me to track him down.” Even the mention of her name changed Harry. He was 25 when he mentioned her, instead of this ageless _being_ that he seemed to be at any other time. His facade cracked around her name as it fell from his mouth. Louis’ chest hurt again. He found himself inexplicably jealous of the way she seemed to transform him. 

Louis felt as if he should reprimand himself for how he felt about Harry. At home he always did. He would tell himself over and over, _no, no, no,_ any time he felt anything about a man. He had always thought that maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could think away the fact that he was a carrier. He could be a good husband to a nice girl if he just tried a little harder. But now, Louis refused. He could not wish this away; he could not deny himself for the satisfaction of his father. He was already too far into disgracing his father to gain his respect back, and so, Louis would not force himself to respect Troy Austin any longer. He would not please a man who had done nothing but hate him from the moment he was born. Not anymore. 

“Can we go dancing? I want to get drunk.” He said to Harry, almost defiantly. He stopped walking; hoping to get the message across, that he did not intend to move until he got his way. 

Harry eyed him for a moment, before nodding in approval just slightly. A smirk snuck across his face, “Alright Louis, we’ll get drunk.” Louis realized that Harry was now calling him Louis. He no longer called him boy in private. _How strange_ , Louis thought. This captain had names for him. Names that differed depending on the situation. Surely he didn’t have both public and private names for all the members of his crew. 

He led them up the main street they had arrived on, towards a building playing music Louis had never heard before. It seemed vaguely Irish, from Louis’ minimal understanding of what Irish music would sound like. The warm glow emanating from the tavern lit the whole street outside, and Louis felt strangely at home. This place, although certainly filled to the brim with dangerous men, seemed so safe and welcoming.

The moment Harry pushed open the tavern’s doors cheers erupted from all around. Men with low, low voices surrounded him, calling out cheers of “Aye, _the young captain!_ ” and “get the man a drink!” and “careful, he’s already tried to put a bullet through one of _Revenge_ ’s boys tonight”. Louis felt a little claustrophobic and a lot euphoric. The atmosphere was so kind, so warm. _So weird._

A glass of rum was thrust into Louis’ hands with a “here, boy”, which he promptly downed to the sounds of cheers from all around. With slaps on the back, the claps of men thundering in his chest bombarded Louis. He was getting pushed around more than he would like to admit, but was also more happy than he had ever been. This was him _refusing_. He was standing up here, surrounded by men who accepted him: who _liked_ him. The sort of men his father would send to the gallows. The sort of men who killed people like his father. _And Louis loved them_. 

Another glass was put into his hands without him seeing where from. Downing it again, Louis himself cheered along with the men as he did so. He snapped his head towards Harry, expecting the stone cold eyes that had looked to him on the walk. But the man had flowed back into him, it seemed, as he smiled and laughed among the ruckus with Louis. Perhaps, he could do what Doniya had too. Perhaps, he could do it better than Doniya. 

Louis smiled his best smile. The one that made visiting nobles and officers charmed. The one he used on them when he planned to have their tongue in his throat, down in the back of a servants’ hall, by the end of the night. “Would you like to dance, sir?” He asked innocently. Officers liked that. And while Harry was certainly not an officer, tastes were often shared. French, English, Spanish, they all seemed to like Troy Austin’s son, _the pretty one_. 

It seemed to take. Harry was grinning widely as he grabbed Louis’ hand and led him to the centre of the floor, where many men were dancing. The men behind them were hollering as they had been. This time about what seemed to be going on between the two of them. Louis thought better of yelling to them, that he was there to do Harry’s paperwork, mostly because he liked the attention seemingly fucking Harry got him. He thought for a moment, _did that make him a terrible person?_ Surely regular men didn’t crave the sort of attention he was getting. But no, Louis would not reprimand himself any longer. He was free. He was a pirate! And as the rum made its way to Louis’ head, he could only think a _pirate, who is about to dance with a very pretty man._

Louis had been given dancing lessons for much of his life –of course- but never like this. He was taught to dance with a woman, firstly, but also to never touch the person he was dancing with. Now, he was dancing with Harry, who was very decidedly male, but also close to him, with Harry’s hands on his waist. His hands were warm, and they radiated heat through Louis’ shirt, into his own skin. This sort of dancing seemed to involve jumping, and yelling in the rests of the music. It seemed to involve Harry spinning him around and bringing his face closer to Louis’ as they danced. 

Every so often, Louis would be near positive that Harry was heading to kiss him, only for the music to stop again and for him to tear his face away to yell “Hey!” with the men around him. 

After what was anywhere between one and five songs (the time seemed to be awfully strange with all the rum), the two of them returned to the bar to drink again. Many of the men who had surrounded them originally returned to drink with Harry again. But one or two came towards Louis. They were mostly Harry’s own age, as apposed to the men in their mid-thirties who were drinking alongside Harry, himself. 

“Where did Harry find you, boy?” One asked as he clinked his own glass against Louis’. 

Louis contemplated a moment, deciding whether or not to tell the truth, or embellish the story in just the slightest. But Harry’s hand found his elbow on the bar. His fingers were warm from dancing and they played against Louis’ arm as if he were a harpsichord. Harry wasn’t even looking at him, preferring to remain in his conversation with the men drinking with him. It was endearing, but also seemed to be a warning to some degree, that Louis had best tell the truth. It was subtle, but still there, to let Louis know that he was listening to what he might say. “He found me on Grimmy’s ship, he said he needed a cabin boy” 

Suddenly, all of the laughter and talk about them stopped. The men around Harry looked at him with almost disgust, “I didn’t think you were that kind of man Harry” one of the older ones said, setting his glass down on the bar counter. 

“For fucks sake, I’m not fucking him!” Harry said, “He’s my actual cabin boy” 

From the other side of Harry another voice arose, “wait, you aren’t fucking him?” 

Louis and Harry both shook their heads. The amount of distain these men seemed to show for the idea of Harry fucking him was frankly a little insulting. They seemed far more concerned about the fact that Louis was so young, but in truth, Louis wouldn’t mind having sex with Harry. He really wouldn’t. And part of him was upset that these men were steering Harry away from it. Couldn’t they be encouraging him? Was that too much to ask?

“You could’ve fooled me,” the man said, picking up his drink again. He chuckled as he drank and it was strange to see the men get over it so quickly. A moment ago, they were accusing Harry of fucking Louis, who he was sure they thought of as a child, only to be back drinking with him again. Maybe that was just how pirates worked. Once you were proven to not be a threat, they just accepted it. What a strange world this was indeed. They could be that close to shunning a man, only to be drinking again with him, the moment he was proven innocent. 

It suddenly struck Louis, what had he meant by _you could’ve fooled me_? Had Louis’ plan been working? Had Louis been successfully seducing Captain Harry Styles? Was Harry attracted to him? No, he couldn’t be. He thought of Louis as a child, he couldn’t want him. But, Louis could dream. 

It was then that Louis realized that there was light streaming into the tavern. The light of day. Louis had successfully lived through his first night on a pirate port. And he’d spent it with actual pirates. Men who stole, and killed, but also drank and partied like no one Louis had ever seen. These were men who didn’t give a shit whether or not Louis could carry children; men who didn’t care that he liked to kiss other men; men who also didn’t seem to care that Louis was a child. 

“We better head back to the ship” Harry said as he finished the last of his drink, “some of us have crews to lead” he spoke teasingly to some of the men, jabbing some in the ribs. 

As he led Louis out of the tavern, he grabbed the roses that had sat on the bar counter all night. It was peculiar that not a single pirate had so much as mentioned the roses, let alone questioned them. They intrigued Louis -who still felt dizzy. He waited until they had made it to the docks to ask about them, figuring that then, at least someone would see him being killed. “Why do you need roses?” 

Harry paused a moment, looking at the roses, tied up with twine in his hand, “that’s a story for a different night, boy” He spoke without turning to Louis. Perhaps it was a painful story, or maybe he just didn’t want to tell him. 

The rum did not make Louis particularly sensitive to social norms, so he pushed on, “but why, sir?”

Immediately, Louis was pushed up against a pile of crates. His body was so squished against them that he could feel where one slate ended and another began. For a moment, he was absolutely positive that this was that end. He had said just the wrong thing. That he had just pushed one notch too far, and that Harry had broken. That all of a sudden, pirate Harry -the one with no soul inside- had just been pushed a little bit too far by Louis. 

No shot came, though. Instead, Louis felt the wetness of Harry’s mouth on the shell of his ear. “If you call me sir one more time, I will not hesitate to fuck you right here, you hear?” he whispered. Louis nodded quickly, terrified. “Good, you’re going to walk to the ship now, so I can watch you go”


	4. 1.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Gemma. And work through some issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this chapter done like 3 days ago but I didn't like my first and second draft.

“You’ve stolen my quiet place, I see” A woman’s voice said from the stairs leading to the canon bay. The voice had awakened Louis from his slumber, with his head resting rather uncomfortably on a canon to his left. He grew awake quickly, careful of being caught asleep by the crew, and the possibility of the news getting back to Harry. The last thing he wanted was to grab Harry’s attention any more than he already had. 

It was, of course, just Louis’ luck that the woman who had caught him was Harry’s sister. Gemma walked to him without ceremony, or invitation. Without so much as looking at Louis again, she squished herself right beside him, in between two canons. She wore the same sort of hat as Harry, but hers was adorned with a bright blue feather, assumedly from a tropical bird. Louis had never had any interest in birds, but he found himself awfully reminded of his own sister. 

Lottie was far younger than Gemma, but Louis could only imagine how much she would love that feather. She was always begging to have new dresses made to fit the trends. She also adored colours. Louis knew how much his mother had spent on having Lottie’s clothes dyed every shade under the sun. It was always turquoise, or sea foam green with her, never just blue or green. _God Louis missed her_. She would be teasing him about Harry, instead of leaving Louis alone to think awfully seriously about it all. She would be elbowing him under the table, and looking at him with that infectious smile. 

“You know, my brother has been looking for you all morning” Gemma said, still not looking Louis in the eye. Instead she had opted to stare straight across the canon bay, towards the plain wood wall. The whole room was monotonously bland. The same wood planks lined all around him, above him, and below him. The only change in shade was the dull grey of the canons’ metal and the muted light that sat lazily in a pool at the bottom of the stairs. It certainly wasn’t the vibrant light of the Caribbean Sea, but came with far fewer risks than settling above deck did. 

“Are you going to tell him where I am?” Louis asked. It felt almost like a challenge, to test if Gemma could be trusted. From what he could see, Gemma was very unlike her brother. She seemed far kinder; more at ease. Judging by the fact that rather than running back up the stairs to let Harry know his whereabouts, she had come to sit with him. She looked quite like him. They had the same eyes. But where Harry’s seemed almost faded, Gemma’s were bright. Incredibly bright. While Harry’s were disconcerting in the way that it seemed almost like he didn’t inhabit them, Gemma seemed trapped. 

“No,” She said, finally looking at Louis, “I figured I wouldn’t” She smiled at him then, as if part of some mischievous scheme. She looked even more like Harry now. They had the same smirk, which was entirely disconcerting. Gemma looked at him, with the same face as the captain, but in an entirely nonthreatening way. It made Louis wonder, if maybe –just maybe- Harry might be capable of the same thing. 

“And why not?” 

“Because Harry is a prissy baby when he gets upset, and it’s funny” Gemma explained. She was very obviously his sister. If anyone else dared to say that sort of thing to him in his presence, Louis had no doubt they wouldn’t have lived too long afterwards. Gemma was certainly the only person who would challenge Harry on anything. Not even Liam, who had known Harry for, well, however many years he had, would dare to say that sort of thing to him. She leaned her head back against the ship’s wall, looking up at the plain wood ceiling. “Zayn and Liam just got back, so we should be moving soon” 

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Louis asked, realizing that he had absolutely no idea. It was strange, to blindly trust the sort of man that Harry was. At home, he barely trusted the guards to keep him safe, and now he was letting a pirate captain take him wherever he wanted. 

“Well, it’ll be Christmas soon, so he’s probably headed to one of his islands. We never spend Christmas on the ship.” Gemma told him. Louis had forgotten that it was almost Christmas. It was only a week or so away, which, in turn, meant that Louis’ seventeenth birthday was in only a week. It would be the very first birthday that Louis would spend away from his family. He was suddenly very upset. Louis had spent 16 birthdays and 17 Christmases with his family. All gathered around a table eating the finest foods and dressed in their best clothes. He could almost feel the warmth of his house, with all the children running around preparing. He remembered the games on the lawn and in the sitting room. Running around with his siblings and eating sweets until his stomach hurt. He could imagine his younger sisters waking him up on his birthday, jumping on the foot of his bed to tell him how old he was -as if he had forgotten. 

All of a sudden, Louis was very concerned about attending church on Christmas. Surely pirates didn’t go to church. Harry definitely wouldn’t take well to being asked to stop at a port on Christmas. What would God think of him? Had he turned his back on the Lord? Was he already going to hell for running away? Or would skipping church on Christmas be the final straw? Surely God wouldn’t mind if he had his own service. God would forgive him; he had to. 

“What brought you down here?” Louis asked, trying to distract himself from his own upset. He had come down here to avoid thinking about Harry, only to move on to more and more issues to work through. Louis’ plans seemed to never quite work out. 

Gemma almost snorted out a laugh, knocking her head lightly back against the ship again. “I don’t like when we pull up the anchor, it freaks me out. So I just stay down here,” Gemma explained. Louis couldn’t help but think that that was an awfully unfortunate issue to have as a pirate. How did she ever get anything done if she had to hide every time they left a port? 

“That’s a strange problem for a pirate” Louis told her. Again, Gemma seemed so much less threatening than Harry. Louis could imagine the sort of violence that would come out of saying anything like that to Harry. 

“Good thing I’m not a pirate then” Gemma said, confusing Louis greatly. She was on a pirate ship, dressed like a pirate, among pirates. How was she not a pirate? 

“Well, aren’t you?” 

“No,” Gemma said bluntly, “I don’t do any of the pirating. I don’t even get a cut of the loot.” Why would Gemma live on a pirate ship for no monetary gain? There was little gain, if not money, from piracy. The look of confusion must have been evident on Louis’ face, as Gemma opted to continue. “After our mum died, and after –um, what happened,” she stopped again now. Louis looked at her only to see that her face was staring straight forward. She looked almost as if her mind had stopped for a moment, pausing on whatever it was she was thinking about. It seemed like she was stuck on it, no matter how much she wanted to move on. For a second, she was trapped inside her own body: inside her own mind. “Harry insisted I come on the ship.” She bounced back all of a sudden, as if she had not had the look of fear plastered across her face half a second ago. There was something concerning about the way the Styles’ worked with their emotions. They didn’t experience them presently. They’re minds just seemed to conjure them up without the approval of the rest of them. Louis could only think of the image of Harry draining from himself as he raised the gun in the pub. “He doesn’t make me do any of the actual plundering, he just has me do the cooking”

Without meaning to be unkind, Louis immediately thought back to the meal he’d had on his first night on the ship. That shade of grey was forever engrained into his mind. Etched onto his memory. He nearly shivered. “I’m not, of course, as good as Harry, but he taught me a couple things before he left.” Gemma continued, not looking at Louis for cues. Louis could not imagine Captain Harry Styles cooking. He tried to imagine him stirring a stew over a stove, tasting it every so often. Louis nearly giggled. 

“Harry can cook?” Louis asked, entirely surprised. It was such a strange thought. The Harry he knew almost seemed like he didn’t need to eat, as he wasn’t alive. The idea that Harry could cook -and was good at it- was just so foreign. 

“Oh, yeah. He adored it when he was still home” And Louis could only think about how young Harry must have been when he’d left home. He must’ve been younger than Louis was then, and Louis was still terrified at nearly 17. Harry had said he was a cabin boy, and Louis tried to think what Harry could have possibly been doing as a cabin boy, since Louis’ entire job seemed to be writing down Harry’s feelings. In the Navy, cabin boys were always captain’s servants, so perhaps Harry had been that. 

“When did he leave?” Louis asked, quickly adding, “If you don’t mind me asking”  
Gemma took a deep breath, preparing herself to divulge what Louis assumed would be the entire story, “it was his fourteenth birthday, but I think he’d been planning it before. News was all around saying _The Mary_ -and along with it Captain Cowell- was to arrive in London any day then. Everyone was threatening his or her parents to run away with it, Harry and myself included. It was all just fun and games, you know” Gemma paused then, collecting herself before continuing, “then, our dad died, really quickly, and Harry just couldn’t deal with it. He locked himself in his room for probably a full week, refusing to eat. And then, all of a sudden, I go in to his room on his birthday to insist he comes down to eat dinner, and he’s gone. Just vanished. He didn’t even take a bag” _the old fashioned way_ , Louis remembered Harry telling him. Suddenly Gemma burst from her bubble, “did you leave a note for your family, Louis?” 

Louis had not, and regretted it quite a lot. He could just imagine Lottie going into his room to see the open window he’d climbed out of. She had probably been so confused. So hurt. He could only imagine how upset he would be if Lottie had just left. He’d left an eleven year old to deal with the shit-show that was his family. Louis suddenly realized how many fights between his father and his mother that he’d had to break up. 

They’d happened every single day –when his father was there- that Louis could remember. It wasn’t until Louis was about thirteen that he’d realized what it was that they were arguing about. Louis had always known that his sisters didn’t look like him; he’d always just attributed it to his being a carrier. Just as he’d blamed almost everything else in his life. But once he was old enough, he’d realized that his father did not blame it on him being a carrier. He’d always thought that because Lottie and Fizzy and Phoebe and Daisy all looked the same, it had to be him. His mother and father had screamed at each other over it, his mother insisting that they were his father’s children, only for his father to insist that they couldn’t be. Louis was never sure what side of the debate he had been on, but he’d always sided with his mother: her being the one who didn’t want him sent off. 

Now he’d left Lottie to deal with the brunt of it. At least Louis had been an outside observer. He hadn’t been up for debate. He looked just like the bastard. There was no denying that Louis was his, despite how much his father would have liked to. Perhaps that was why he’d gone to war over the girls. Because he couldn’t deny that child he really wanted to, so he’d gone for the ones he had a fighting chance at. It was sick. Especially when Louis saw Daisy and Phoebe loved their father so. When he came home, they always swarmed him, screaming their undying praises. But the second the twins were in bed, his father would look to his mother and just say “those aren’t my daughters”. And now Louis had left Lottie to break that up. Fuck. 

“No, I didn’t” he said. He felt very much on the brink of tears. He felt like a monster for leaving his poor innocent sisters to deal with the horrors of their father. 

“Oh, you’ve got to,” Gemma said, “as someone who’s been on the receiving end of nothing, there’s nothing worse than being left to wonder.” Louis could practically see Lottie sitting on his bed crying, searching his room for a sign as to where he was. He had to let her know that he was still alive. 

“How?” 

“Well Harry likes to stop at a port just before we reach wherever we’re going, you know, go get food and things. You’ll be able to post a letter there, Harry will find you someone to take it to wherever your family is-“

“Hispaniola” Louis interrupted. Something in him wanted Gemma to know that. He wanted her to know where his family was, who is family was. Maybe it was that she reminded him of his own sisters, despite being more than a decade older than Louis. 

“He’ll find someone to take that letter to Hispaniola. He’ll also give you the parchment to write it on” Gemma instructed him. 

“I doubt your brother will be quite as willing to do that as you make it out to be” 

Gemma sighed, as if she had to say this all the time, “Harry’s not a bad guy, he’s just shut himself off. He warms up eventually, but for a while it’ll be like he’s still in his bedroom, angry about dad” Gemma explained, almost sad, “He will be willing to let you talk to your family, though. He always said that if he could have written us a note, it would have been pages long, and in the end he probably wouldn’t have left”

“Really?” Louis asked, having trouble thinking about young Harry signing a letter, and then looking out his window at _The Mary_ in the distance, only to decide against it. Instead, just pulling up the blankets on his bed and finding sleep. He tries to imagine Harry looking at the note the next morning and ripping it up, before going into the kitchen for breakfast with his mum. Slowly, but surely, the image of Harry turned into Louis in his mind. That next morning, he was at home, with Phoebe in his lap, enjoying the last few days of his life before he got on the boat to England. He couldn’t go back though, could he? The boat meant to take him to the unknown noble would leave at, well, that evening. After the sun sunk on the horizon that night, there would be absolutely no going back. He would have no chance of returning to his comfortable life in the upper classes. He would be a man of the sea. But for a moment, he revelled in the thought of the man he was meant to “marry” standing in London Harbour, awaiting him. Only for Louis to never arrive. 

“Yeah” Gemma snorted a laugh, “imagine that: the great captain Harry Styles having just gone to bed that night.” Gemma spoke about it mockingly. But Louis could tell that part of her was wishing it were true. 

For the first time during that whole conversation, Louis felt the boat rock. That must have meant that they were on open water now: waves crashing against the hull. Gemma looked a little shaken by it, but got up just the same. “I should probably get some lunch together,” she said as she started to walk toward the gully. Louis started to get up to help, but Gemma stopped him, “I don’t need help, don’t worry. You stay here. Enjoy your last few moments without Harry finding you” They both laughed at that. Louis could hear a plea for alone time when he heard it, so he let her go. Resorting back to the book he’d stolen from Zayn. 

It was almost laughably easy. Louis had already read it, long ago, and then again more recently to Daisy. It was all about sin and avoiding it, which seemed to be the theme of all children’s books. Every one had a moral to follow, some deeply religious thing for young children to learn. It seemed strange that Zayn would have such a thing. The Maliks were pirates of the Persian Gulf, and therefore obviously Muslim. The Christian God was not part of Zayn’s life, so learning about the various Christian sins seemed kind of pointless. Perhaps, it had just been the only book he could get his hands on. 

Louis flipped through it, looking at the pictures. They were faded, some of the ink having been taken off by generations of tiny fingers reaching out to them. Louis’ copy was a like this too. It was worn from years of little Austin children pulling at the edges of the pages and running dirty hands over the letters. He reckoned that most children’s books looked the same. 

He looked around it some more, but could only think of his own family. Now Phoebe would be forced to read it alone. He could hear her stumbling through it by herself. He could hear her sounding out the words wrong every so often, and having no one to correct her. He could feel her getting upset and having no one to comfort her. _Fuck, he was a monster wasn’t he?_

Just as he was turning another page, he heard the creak of the stairs. His heart stopped. He was positive that the end of his peaceful morning was nigh, and that Harry Styles was at the top of the stairs, ready to pounce. 

But within one step Louis could tell it wasn’t Harry. Harry walked with a sort of commanding step. His feet demanded attention every time they moved. But the feet on the stairs were quiet, nervous, subdued. Whoever was walking down them was trying not to be seen, and not looking for any sort of attention. Louis very quickly realized that the steps could only be coming from Zayn. 

He, much like Gemma, decided it best to come and squish himself right up next to Louis, between the canons. He looked at the book in Louis’ hands and frowned, as if trying to figure out if that was his copy or not. He also looked slightly tempted to snatch it out of Louis’ hands, maybe to hide it, and Louis suddenly regretted his decision to take it without asking Zayn. “Sorry for stealing your book, mate” Louis apologized, trying to repair any damage before it got too bad. 

“Oh, um, it’s fine honestly. I know it’s dumb” He said. Zayn was strangely more subdued than usual, which worried Louis just a little bit. Zayn certainly wasn’t the loudest of the man on the boat, but he normally wasn’t quite the quietest. Now he looked nervous, on edge, worried. He looked almost as if mentally, he was pacing back and forth in front of Louis, but, because of his nature, he’d resolved it best to sit with him instead. 

“No it really isn’t, I read it once when I was younger but I was reading it again and I actually quite li-“

“Have you ever been pregnant?” Zayn asked all of a sudden, out of the blue. 

Louis floundered for a moment, his mouth moulding around word and after word with no sound escaping, “Uh, no” He said finally, and then a moment later, “have you?” 

“No, but I think I will be soon” Zayn said, in his same nervous tone. 

“Why do you say that?” 

“Well Li’ and I were meeting with my sister, right, and that’s all he would talk about. Like it was all babies, babies, babies. And I’ll be eighteen in nearly three weeks” Zayn didn’t look particularly excited about the idea of children, which worried Louis, because if he had any understanding of who Zayn was, he probably wouldn’t express it to anyone but Louis. 

“What does being eighteen have to with it?” Louis asked. It was concerning that Zayn seemed to have just accepted this fate. He wasn’t asking how to get out of it, or talk about it; he was just telling Louis that this was what was happening. 

“Well Li’ always said that once I was eighteen we could have babies. And I always really wanted it, but now…” Zayn just faded out, as if scared to say what he was truly feeling. There was this sort of expectation of carriers, that they always wanted to have kids, but it was pretty obvious Zayn wasn’t ready. 

“You know you should tell him that, right? Like he probably just thinks that that’s what you want” Louis reasoned with him, because he had faith in Liam. He’d come around to the man, now that it was obvious that he was actually a good lad. Liam certainly wouldn’t be pressuring Zayn if he knew that it wasn’t what Zayn wanted. 

“He bought rings,” Zayn said, and Louis was lost. _Like wedding rings?_ Men couldn’t marry, so why would Liam have bought rings? Zayn must have spotted Louis’ bewilderment, because he went on to say, “it’s a pirate thing. They call it _matelotage_. It’s French, I think. It’s like getting married, just without the church. And Liam thinks I don’t know ‘cus he’s got them hidden in the bottom of his chest” 

Louis had spent his whole life dreaming of getting married. He’d been taken to a wedding once when he was twelve or so, to show him off, and he’d adored it. He’d gone home that day and asked his mum when he could get married, only to be let down awfully hard by the discovery that he couldn’t marry a man. And here he was, being told that as a pirate, _an outlaw_ , he could marry any person he wanted. Of all the places, it would be here, among thieves and murderers, that he would be allowed to live out his dream. What a joke. He could get a ring on his finger and be loved out in the open by a man. _He could have a husband_. Suddenly, Louis realized that he ought to respond to Zayn, “Well, do you want to marry him?” 

Zayn thought about that question for a moment, before looking at Louis and definitively saying, “yeah, I do.” Well that was it wasn’t it? Zayn seemed awfully sure about marrying Liam, but didn’t want to have his children just yet; it was that simple, wasn’t it?

“So, just tell him that. I’m sure he’ll understand” Louis told him, knowing full well that it probably wasn’t that simple. Things like that never are. 

“But everyone knows that once you get married you have a baby” Zayn told him, “I can’t just have one or the other!” Zayn seemed almost disgusted by the idea of that. He looked as if Louis had just suggested he murder the next person who came down the stairs. _Okay, not an option_ , Louis noted to himself. 

“Why don’t you ask him to wait on the marriage thing-“ 

“Matelotage” Zayn interrupted. 

“Right. Ask him to wait on the _matelotage_ thing?” Louis suggested. Perhaps that would satisfy Zayn. Maybe that would allow him some time to think it over, to come to a conclusion about how he really felt. 

“I don’t know Lou’” Zayn said, and Louis felt awfully endeared by the nickname, “what if he gets upset?” Louis had known Zayn would think about that. It was the sort of thing Louis, himself, would think. Of course it was a concern. 

Louis took a breath, assuring to himself that he would deliver an okay response, “Well, it isn’t like he’s going anywhere, right? The only thing you can do is talk about it, or else you’re going to have to suffer. And imagine the baby, if you aren’t ready to have them, you won’t be able to love them properly. It’s best to wait.” 

Zayn thought for a moment, before nodding slightly, “I just don’t want to let him down, Lou’” 

“And you won’t, I promise” Louis assured him. 

***   
It was later that night, after Gemma had brought him his dinner (in the same place) that Louis realized that he’d have to go to the captain’s quarters eventually. It wasn’t as if he could avoid Harry forever. And he certainly couldn’t sleep in the canon bay any longer: his neck was starting to hurt. 

The issue was that he really didn’t know how to face Harry. What did he say? Did he even mention what had happened on the docks the night before? Did Harry even remember it? Truthfully, Louis had been more drunk than Harry, so if he remembered it, Harry almost certainly did. But what did one say in response to their captain threatening to fuck them on the docks on Tortuga? Would Harry bring it up? Because honestly, Louis really did _not_ want to have that conversation. 

Louis could only think back to his first night on the ship. When he’d been drunk off his arse for the first time and asked Harry if he was meant to be his whore. He could only think of Harry’s matter of fact response “No Louis, you aren’t here to be my whore, you’re here to do my paperwork.” And yet, he had threatened just twenty-four hours later, to fuck him. Louis had never been someone’s whore before, but he reckoned that was a very large part of the deal. 

Louis breathed heavily, and rose to his feet, gathering strength as he went. He found himself feeling the same feeling of rising dread as he had on the deck of _The Siren’s Spirit_. He swallowed it down, again, because he absolutely would not allow this man to make him feel any more fear. He knew the real Harry: the one who tracked down Doniya’s little brother for no monetary gain. He knew the one who insisted on carrying a vase of roses on his ship for some obviously personal reason. 

But, he also knew the Harry that the world saw. The one who got set off into a frenzy when Louis said “sir”, and the one who threatened to kill men who tried to coerce Louis into joining their crews. 

And most frighteningly, Louis was never sure which one he was speaking to, until a smile erupted on his face, or a gun was at his head. It was like having a beginner fire an arrow at you, and hoping they missed. There was just no way to tell, and Louis lived in fear of the day Harry’s threats became a reality. 

After about a minute of internal debate, Louis decided against knocking. He lived here; this was his room too. 

As he pushed open the door to the captain’s quarters, he was immediately flooded with the light of the candles ablaze on Harry’s desk. As he pushed the door open further, he could see Harry’s silhouette in the light. He had his back towards the door, and he was unbuttoning his shirt beside his bed. His hair was unruly and everywhere, surely from a day of manning the helm, with wind whipping against him. 

Louis almost thought that he might be able to get the door open and climb into his hammock without Harry noticing, until the door creaked as he pushed it just a little further.

Harry turned quickly, his eyes looking for intruders. The light of the candles caught them, and they looked like they too were ablaze, just behind his pupils was a blazing fire. His fingers were still on the last button of his shirt, resting there as the flames in his eyes found Louis. He looked into Louis for a moment. Louis was sure he wasn’t looking through him now, but inside of him. Louis suddenly felt awfully naked, despite Harry being the one in a state of undress. 

Louis panicked for a moment. Was he meant to just walk to his bed while Harry looked? Was this like the docks again: where Harry just wanted to watch. Louis remembered his embarrassment during that walk. _He wasn’t sure how to walk. Was he meant to swing his hips? Was it meant to be enticing? Would Harry think it was silly? What would happen once he reached the ship? Where did he go? It was lucky that Liam had already been there when Louis had arrived. He’d distracted Harry long enough for Louis to slip away, in search of a place to be alone. He’d tried going down to the sleeping quarters, maybe stealing someone’s hammock for an hour or so, but it had been rowdy and loud. There had been men strewn across the floor, laughing drunkenly, playing some game in the middle, so he had gone to the hammock that he remembered being assigned to Zayn. The only thing on it had been that children’s book, and without thinking, he’d just taken it: needing some sort of distraction from the whole thing._

But Harry didn’t just continue to watch. To Louis’ surprise, Harry began to walk towards him. Louis’ stomach lurched as he walked, realizing that this may be Harry coming to take what he’d promised. But, Harry stopped just in front of him. So close that Louis could practically feel his body heat radiating towards him. “I was looking for you all day” he said, quietly, looking down at Louis in the sort of way that felt incredibly intimate. 

“Yeah?” Louis said, although he’d known. He figured it was best not to sell Gemma out, she’d been so kind to him when she’d discovered him, that it was only right that he would do the same. 

Harry looked away for a moment. He’d lost all sense of bravado now. He looked almost nervous, which actually seemed to fit him, funnily enough. “Um, Gemma said you want to write a letter home, so I left some parchment for you,” He paused for a moment before speaking again “and a quill, and ink, obviously” It was a sort of innocent thing to say. It wasn’t mocking Louis, or making a joke, but rather making sure that Louis knew he was being genuine. 

“Thank you” Louis told him. He seemed so nervous that Louis felt almost like he had to take care of him. _Take care of the captain: imagine that,_ he thought later. 

Harry’s hands had fallen to his side, and when Louis looked down to see them, they were shaking, just slightly, almost vibrating. 

Harry looked up at his again, and Louis realized that his eyes had dropped to his lips. And the fear of him, the confusion, the discomfort, all seemed to fade away for just a moment. Louis _wanted_ him to kiss him. His heart was pulling at itself, saying _please, please_. Harry’s hand rose, as if it were about to grab Louis’ cheek, but stopped just short of it. “Uh, can I jus-“ he started. 

Louis must have nodded his head in just the slightest, because all of a sudden, Harry’s hands were on either side of his face, and his lips were pressed against Louis’. It wasn’t hard, or forceful, just soft, and quiet, and innocent. Louis had never been kissed like that in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, PLEASE comment. It actually makes my day, so if you want to make me happy, that's a nice thing to do.   
> Thanks!


	5. 1.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis decides to dive into his Harry issues head first, (and maybe lips first)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank trans-atlantic flights for this quick update. It may be a week before the next one because I'm on vacation. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos, I didn't get to reply to many but I love reading comments, so KEEP COMMENTING!

The next three days were weird to say the least. It seemed that Harry had an awfully bad habit of pretending that his various advances had simply not happened, and it was starting to drive Louis absolutely mad. It was obviously quite difficult to have any sort of closure over the whole thing, when he woke up every morning nearly positive that the kiss was nothing more than his imagination. 

The morning after the kiss, Harry woke Louis up just as the sun was rising. He figured it would be to talk about the strange occurrences the night before, but no, Louis (who thought he quite understood Harry) should have realized that the captain was not one to talk about his feelings. Instead, Harry insisted that he get to work on his diary, seeing as Louis had missed a whole day of work. Louis had to say, his ability to change overnight was absolutely impressive. One moment he was nervous and kissing Louis in the softest way he could, and the next he was putting Louis back to work. Frankly, it was confusing. 

Louis had gotten quite quick at writing down Harry’s various feelings. He did not, understandably, speak about Louis, ever. He spoke about everything from the progress of the day, to planning what the crew would have for Christmas dinner (he wanted chicken, but if that failed, fish would do). Harry had, however, gotten less emotional. Gone were the long-winded tangents into his sensory experiences, all replaced with carefully accounted plans and reports. Louis had never written a legal document, but he reckoned it would be quite similar. 

Harry now insisted that Louis sit on the upper deck with him, diary and quill in hand, while he navigated all day. Louis would sit for hours upon hours in the hot sun, ready to note down whatever it was Harry wanted him to. It could be absolute eons between Harry saying anything worth reporting, but remain there Louis did. It was agonizingly boring: with absolutely nothing to look at side from the same ocean water as far as the eye could see. The same turquoise sea, capped in white, shining in that _hot_ sun, over and over again, day after day. 

From what Harry reported, they were headed to an island off of Saint Kitts, but would stop at a port there first to pick up that god-forsaken chicken he kept going on about. Louis could sense, even through Harry’s monotonous voice, that the man absolutely adored Christmas. No one went of that much about Christmas dinner who wasn’t absolutely thrilled about the forthcoming holiday. It was funny to see Harry sound like a child about the prospect. There was still a little bit of the fourteen-year-old boy that Gemma had described. Even behind the bravado he put forward, he was wholly giddy. 

Louis had begun to spend the little time he was allowed away from Harry with Gemma. He would sit on the floor of the galley, as far away as one could get from the stove, because Louis would have rather jumped overboard of his own accord than have gotten any hotter. Gemma would putter around, making whatever she could scrounge together from their deteriorating resources, and every so often shoving something into Louis’ mouth to see if he gagged. The food was less grey, after their stop in Tortuga, but still often overcooked and tough. Gemma worked with week old lettuce and cured meat, which she claimed could be good forever, which Louis half doubted, and half prayed, was false. 

That was where he first met Barbara. She and Gemma had bonded in some sort of way, despite the fact that they were complete opposites. Gemma certainly wasn’t soft-spoken, but in the presence of Barbara, she seemed positively tranquil.  
Barbara was a yeller. And a proud one at that. She would gladly proclaim her every feeling and thought. Giving her every opinion about any matter. She was a proud Northerner, coming from some middle of nowhere town, where as she claimed “the biggest news was the birth of a sheep in February”. There was something unapologetic about her that Louis loved. He could listen to her complain about Gemma’s food for hours, throwing out every insult under the sun. She could write sonnets about how much she hated it. Louis found himself in a constant state of laughter, unable to hold it in over Barbara proclamations that Gemma’s food tasted like “like a pair of donkey’s balls, cut off and soaked in spoiled milk for about three years”. It was all in good fun, but Louis suspected that in some form, it was pushed Gemma to try to make things that looked more like food. 

Barbara was also unapologetically brash when it came to her “reviews” of the men of the ship. She’d taken a liking to Niall, apparently, because “the Irish were famously good at pleasing a lady,” which Louis had to admit he had never heard before. Nonetheless, Barbara insisted that she had read it in a book once, (only to reveal about a moment later that she could not, in fact, read). She didn’t stop at Niall, of course. She got her two cents in about everyone. In reference to Liam, she had said “she would let him ravish her any time he wanted, with or without Zayn there to witness,” to which Louis had quite literally choked on his own spit. Of Steve, who was the master gunner, and just slightly famous for his unusually long locks, she liked to say that “Longer hair was better for tugging on when it got to the good part,” which had made Gemma laugh so hard she had had to step out of the galley for a moment to gather herself. When she got to Harry however, Louis had had quite a lot of trouble finding it very hilarious. Which troubled him, because truthfully, he felt like he needed to get over this fantasy he had constructed in his mind. 

By then he was becoming more and more sure that he had actually imagined the kiss, because the entire experience had been so uncharacteristic of Harry, that Louis was beginning to actually believe it was a dream. Some sort of weird fever dream brought on by seasickness, or maybe dehydration. Louis didn’t know the cause, but it seemed that the outcome had been strange romantic hallucinations of his captain. 

When Louis really thought about it, of course it had to have been a dream. Harry had acted nothing like himself, with his shaky hands and his unfinished sentences. That hadn’t been Harry in any form. That hadn’t been a Harry that Louis was at all familiar with. The great Harry Styles, _The Young Captain,_ did not shake. He didn’t stutter, he didn’t kiss sixteen-year-old boys in candlelight. He didn’t hold those boys’ cheeks like he was holding some tiny creature, some frail bird. He was strong and withdrawn. He was aggressive, violent and volatile. Harry Styles was anything but nervous. Harry Styles was anything but romantic. 

Louis decided it was best to just give up on this obscure fever dream. Yeah, he was giving up. 

***  
It rained the morning of December 21st. Harry, who had enough power to order one of the other men to steer, had released Louis from his post when the first drops started to fall. 

Louis hated rain. He hated it with a burning passion. At home, rain meant being stuck in the house all day. Louis would be forced to sit with his mother and whichever friends she had taken in and watch them embroider little pieces of fabric. Lottie had sometimes been allowed to work on the scraps, producing the sort of incredible pictures he was sure his mother’s friends longed to be able to create. Louis of course, as “a man” was not allowed to even pick up a needle. Instead, he would be faced with hours of boredom, listening to various naval wives gossip over whatever was in fashion at the time. 

On _The Rose_ , rain seemed to mean that all the men were let off for the day. It seemed almost like the crew was excited for the downpour as it pummelled the deck above them. They ignored the drips making their way through the ceiling, and instead sat in the middle of the sleeping quarters, drinking not long after noon. There were, of course, some men who insisted that this was the prime time to catch up on their lost sleep, and for the first hour that it rained, every few minutes the sleeping quarters was flooded by cries of “Oi! Shut up!” Eventually, however, the men gave up, and either covered their ears, or came to join the congregation in the middle. 

It was only early afternoon when someone pulled out a needle and some ink. At first, Louis thought that perhaps pirates did needlepoint. After all, he hadn’t expected that they marry each other or sign onto contracts either. It wasn’t until Zayn hopped up from his place on the other side of the circle and pulled up his arm sleeve that he realized what exactly was happening. 

The man, who sported flaming red hair, seemed to know what he was doing. His arms were covered in tattoos of varying quality and size, and his face burst into the most excited smile Louis had ever seen when Zayn sat in front of him. He didn’t even ask Zayn what he wanted before taking the needle to his skin. Zayn winced each time the needle dove into his skin, and Louis could only imagine what it felt like. 

Until, of course, he found himself sat in front of the man, his own forearm exposed. It felt almost like having a stick dragged against one’s skin until it started to rip, but for hours on end. The men cheered him on, feeding him little cups of rum, saying the drunker he was the less it would hurt. Ed, the man who was taking a needle to his arm, had not asked him what he wanted either. He trusted him, judging by what he had given Zayn –a large tiger crawling up his left arm, which had achieved surprisingly impressive shading and detail for a man on a boat. 

It was the first time Louis felt like a proper part of the crew. He’d been the one Harry took on just because he could write, then the one who only hung out with the girls, then Harry’s servant, but never a crewmember. There was the crew, and then there was Louis, that was it. But when a man, of whom Louis still didn’t know the name, was pouring a cup of rum down Louis’ throat without his permission, Louis felt like a pirate. A real pirate. A pirate with just less than one tattoo. 

Men yelled their uneducated advice at Ed every so often, as to how to shade, or what to add next, but Louis couldn’t bear to look down. Mostly because he feared that the picture etched on his skin forever was something wildly profane, and Louis was a bit of an avoider of his problems. It hurt like hell, and felt incredibly large, so Louis chose to just save the looking for when it was truly too late. 

Instead, he found himself inquiring into the tattoos on his fellow crewmates. He first asked Ed, who seemed happy to divulge all about the ink in his skin. Even the massive lion that adorned his chest, which he explained was a tribute to his first love: England. Ed had grown up in a family of farmers, apparently. He then went on to explain how he had ended up in piracy. He said his story was fairly standard, he’d decided to slip away when one of his friend’s was doing it. It was this sort of fantasy they’d had: to become pirates, but neither of them had had any idea what actually being a pirate involved. He’d been about Louis’ age, maybe a little older –he didn’t remember. As for the friend, he was dead within a week of boarding a ship, because he was useless with a weapon. When Louis asked how he’d learned to tattoo, Ed had just shrugged and said, “Well, I could draw”. Louis had thought he was the only one who had done what he had done. He had had this image of all of these men being grown men, unwillingly forced onto this ship and then coming around to it. But, as he continued, it seemed that nearly all of the men had become pirates of their own accord. Some were teenagers, like Louis, while others had been Navy men, who had willingly joined when their boats had been raided. 

It was Liam who intrigued Louis most. His tattoo was a series of chevrons on the underside of his right arm. They were dark, but grown over, which made Louis realize they must have been quite old. The reasoning behind it was a little bit funny as Liam explained that he was fifteen and decided that he had enough skills to run the Navy, so naturally, he’d promoted himself to first rank. He had grown up in America, which was nearly unheard of in the crew, who were mostly British, with a smattering of French and Dutch, and well, Zayn. His father had been a lumberjack, which was why Liam was the ship’s carpenter. He’d been taken from a port in Charlestown, when he was thirteen, and put on a small pirate ship, which has been overtaken very easily by _The Mary_ within a month of Liam being on it. He had expected to be killed, naturally, seeing as he was younger, weaker, and of little use, but Captain Cowell –unlike Harry- had a bit of a concerning taste for young boys. He’d then spent all of his teens on _The Mary_ , until Captain Cowell had been murdered. 

Louis tried to imagine what it would be like to become a pirate at thirteen. He could barely comprehend being a pirate now, let alone being four years younger. It was strange to think that Liam, who divulged that he was 23, had been a pirate for a decade, and nearly half of his life. Louis had trouble with that, because part of him was a bit concerned that one day, his own days as a pirate would outnumber the days he’d spent at home. That he would become more of a pirate than a person. 

The thing that struck Louis most was that these men seemed to love being pirates. Like they actually adored it. They truly enjoyed life at sea, as outlaws. And the more Louis heard about it, the more he understood it. It was and incredibly lucrative career, it seemed, judging by the gold rings and necklaces they all wore. Many of them had rings inlayed with emeralds and rubies all over: some so heavy that it seemed that many of them were actually inhibiting their owners’ abilities to use their fingers. The men were also allowed to drink and party every night with no repercussions. Those of them with families said they often sent money back to them. And those who took a liking to men seemed to do quite well. 

Those men seemed to believe that they would spend their entire lives on ships like this one. They intended to stay until they were either too old to pull up the sails, or too dead to be of any use. The same fear as before rose up to Louis’ head. One day, would he become so used to piracy that it was his choice to remain on a ship forever?

Soon enough, Louis realized that there were actually a couple of other men who told Louis they were carriers as well. Because apparently Louis’ initial assumption had been correct: that pirates generally –save “fucking Grimmy, the creep”- actually couldn’t give two shits whether or not you could have children. 

Louis had never had someone identify himself as a carrier before arriving on this ship. At home, it was so shameful that it was kept tightly under wraps. It was something you said to boys who seemed too feminine, not something your identified yourself as. It felt wrong to call himself that, even if he knew he was. The men on The Rose were proud it seemed. They gladly told the other men, even bragged about it. 

The tattoo was finished just as the sun started to set. After hours of letting Ed stab him repeatedly, Louis was nervous to look. But as he did, he saw no naked women, but instead: a compass. It was beautifully shaded and it fit Louis. He wasn’t sure how, but it fit. It was very: Louis. Not the Louis who had let his father decide his future, but certainly the Louis who had become a pirate. _Fuck, it felt good._

Looking down at the tattoo, Louis could see staying on this ship forever. He could see becoming a pirate forever. He could almost see his own days on a ship outnumbering his days on land. He could see becoming more pirate than anything else. That was the Louis who had this tattoo on his arm. And he found that he quite liked being that Louis. 

He was, of course, very drunk. He’d been drinking since early afternoon, to numb the pain of Ed’s needle. It had probably been four hours, because Ed had insisted he take his time, “’got to do the first one right” he’d said. Louis had been drinking consistently for about four hours, which made him a little bit more willing to do things –namely Harry things. 

And so, with four hours of rum spilled into his stomach, and what felt like his brain, he marched up to the door of the captain’s quarters. Without so much as hesitating to consider knocking, he burst in. 

Harry was sitting there with one of his roses in his hand. It was starting to dry out around the edges, but he spun it around in his fingers all the same. He was looking very intently at it, as if with each spin he expected it to reveal some important secret to him. There was a full bottle of rum at his side, and no cup, which told Louis that he was drinking it straight from the bottle. Louis could imagine what his lips must look like, wrapped around the neck of a bottle, his neck tipping back, maybe with his eyes closed. He tore himself from that fantasy. 

Louis had come with one goal, to ask a single question, because his brain was dizzy and he was confused as to whether or not the captain had actually kissed him. He felt as if he was imagining everything now, as the alcohol in him jumbled up all his thoughts. 

Harry looked up from his rose, and looked at Louis as he often did, with eyes that analyzed if he was a threat. With eyes that said, _stay back, boy_. But Louis would have none of it. This was not the time for intimidation. Louis had four hours worth of liquid courage pumping through his body, and he was here to sort things out. 

Harry put the rose onto the table next to him, alongside the half empty bottle of rum. But Louis wasn’t going to left him get up, because then he would see the sheer size of Harry and be too scared to speak. Without thinking too hard into what it was he planned to say, he opened his mouth, “did you kiss me? Or did I make that up?” He asked, sure that his words were not entirely well put together, but they would do the job. 

Harry got up then, and Louis had remembered very quickly how tall Harry was. He had probably nine inches on Louis, which made it hard for Louis to look up at him when he got too close to Louis, as he did then. 

He was obviously drunk, but so was Louis, so he didn’t seem to mind quite as much. His hands found Louis’ hips, and completely covered them. Every time Harry touched him, he possessed this sort of heat that spread all over Louis and made him feel almost like he would ignite. Looking up at him, for an answer for his question, because after all, he had come there on a mission. Harry just nodded, “yes, Louis, I did kiss you” 

Suddenly Louis was at a loss. He had prepared himself to be told that he was going completely crazy, not that what he’d remembered was true. But, why? What did Harry have to gain from kissing Louis? Was this some sort of intimidation tactic? Did he kiss all of his crew? Surely not, that would be strange, and Louis would have heard about that. Had he gone completely crazy himself? Had too many years at sea finally gone to his head? Harry looked almost fondly at Louis as he surely scrunched up his face in confusion. It was just so uncharacteristic of him. He was not the type of man to shake. He was not the type of man to make romantic gestures. He was aggressive, violent, and volatile, he repeated to himself again. Harry was not someone who kissed sixteen-year-old boys. 

Finally, Louis had to know. He reminded himself that he had a right to know. “Why?” 

Harry laughed, in a way seeming to take the time to convince himself of why. His hands moved up to Louis’ waist and he pulled Louis just the slightest bit closer to him, until the air between them was warm with their body heat, spreading between them. Harry paused a moment longer, before opening his mouth to say, “Gemma says you’re scared of me” as if that was an answer to his question. 

Louis was fuming. He wasn’t here to have Harry change topics and work around what Louis was there to say. He would listen to Louis. Louis would make him. “Answer me!” Louis said, bursting with frustration. 

Harry sighed, “I told you: Gemma says you’re scared of me” 

Louis was upset by that answer. If one could even call it an answer at all. It was some dim-witted way to get himself out of truly saying why, because Styles’ didn’t do well with emotion. Louis didn’t have the capacity at the moment to fear if Harry would crack, and begin to fade. His own anger had taken over his impressionable mind. He was certainly not in his most right of mind, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from receiving the answer he deserved. “What, so you kiss everyone who’s afraid of you? Because I can give you a list of people I know. You’ll have to kiss your way through the islands” 

“No Lou, I don’t kiss whoever is afraid of me. I just, -I wanted you to know I’m not just this _thing_!” Harry said, and Louis realized that Harry might have actually been hurt by the way Louis characterized him in his mind. It struck him then, that Harry really did have present emotions. The boy Gemma had described, who had locked himself in his room for a week being so angry, he really existed. That was boy who was dangerous and volatile, and it seemed he had never left. He covered the real Harry in this whirlwind of anger and violence. That boy had a tight grip on him, so tight that even in his most emotional moments, he grabbed hold, but under all of that, was the Harry that shook. 

Harry Styles did shake. He was the sort of man who made romantic gestures. He was not aggressive, or violent, or volatile. Harry Styles did kiss sixteen-year-old boys. Louis very quickly realized that the Harry that Doniya had brought out was this Harry. He had thought that the Harry who kissed him and the Harry who had hugged Doniya with such earnest had been different men, but here, now, hearing Harry say that he wasn’t that _thing_ that the ship had made him out to be proved to him, that the night with Doniya had just been his first glimpse at this Harry. The real, emotional Harry. The one who wouldn’t’ have left his family if he had just been able to write it all out. 

Styles’ weren’t good with emotions, but they did experience them presently. It was just under all these layers, all these facades, and all these fronts. 

Harry was real, and here, and true. That fire that had been burning behind his pupils the night he’d kissed Louis had been the real him, just trying to shine through. 

Louis rose to his tiptoes. He wrapped his hands around Harry’s neck and he looked straight into his eyes. There, for the first time, he could see the vulnerability in them. This was Harry Styles. Not the captain, or the man who had killed all those men on the deck. And Louis kissed him. 

It was slow, and sweet. Harry had such a hold on Louis’ waist that he was practically lifting him off the ground. Their chests were pushed together, and Louis could feel his heartbeat. _Yes,_ Louis reminded himself, _this is a human. This is Harry._

Slowly, nervously, Louis’ hands found their way to the mess of curls on Harry’s head. He held himself there, against Harry’s hair, his chest, and his lips. Harry’s tongue slowly found its way into Louis’ mouth, exploring it, mapping it, and committing the feeling of it to memory. Louis had kissed men before. Many had even been his father’s friends. But never like this. Those men were tough, and hard and fast. They were there to get a quick fix, in the middle of dinner parties, or overnight stays at their house. They had been what Louis thought a kiss always felt like. They were void and they were intense. But not Harry. Harry seemed as if he cared about Louis through the whole kiss. His hands were gentle but firm, holding him there. Saying, _I’m not letting go anytime soon_. 

Soon, Harry’s hands were lowering themselves. They travelled slowly, and softly, taking care as they went. The stopped for a moment at Louis’ hips, making sure that Louis approved, and giving him a chance to back out, before continuing down his back. They stopped again at the swell of his bum, taking care to become slightly stronger. Louis found it flattering, if he was honest. He liked having Harry take notice of each part of his body, caring for him. He felt, almost, loved. A feeling with which Louis was not particularly familiar. 

It wasn’t until Harry’s hands began to move that he realized what it was Harry was going for. When they reached the tops of Louis’ thighs, Harry broke the kiss, just barely, practically dragging his lips across Louis’ cheek to his ear, “Jump?” it came as a question. Harry was giving him another opportunity to say stop, but Louis found that he very much did want to jump into Harry’s arms. 

Louis had never prided himself on being particularly light, but Harry didn’t stumble for even a moment as Louis spontaneously jumped to wrap him legs around Harry’s slender waist. 

Harry turned quickly, pressing Louis’ back into the wall next to them. It felt strangely romantic, despite it being fairly sexual. Harry had his hands pressed against Louis’ bum and his tongue in Louis’ mouth, and yet, it felt innocent. Louis felt almost like he was having his very first kiss, but slightly more organized, and sure of himself. He knew that Harry wanted him there, pressed against him. 

They stayed there for a while, against the wall, drinking each other in. Their heat was no longer bouncing between the two of them, but rather shared in the space along the plains of skin they now shared. Louis’s back was pressed against the planks of the wall, and he felt a little bit in the middle of two very different sensations. Behind him, the cold wood planks were hard and unforgiving, and in front of him, or rather, on the front of him, was Harry, who was warm, and soft and safe. 

It wasn’t not long after they’d made the move to the wall that Harry ripped his mouth from Louis’ again, this time looking him straight in the eye as he spoke, “um, I, uh” he stutters before finally choking out, “bed?” 

Louis panicked for a moment, because he’d only just met Harry, and beds normally meant sex, which Louis wasn’t so sure he was ready for. In fact, he wasn’t even positive if he was sure how one went about it. But, Louis didn’t want Harry to decide that he wasn’t worth it, or some sort of prude. Because he really wasn’t, it was just: that was so big. That was the sort of thing Louis had thought was reserved for marriage, or “marriage” as his was meant to be. So was he willing to do such a thing with Harry? Part of him said _yes_ , but the other -and more commonly correct part- wanted to cry. 

Harry, the godsend, seemed to sense his confliction. He stopped his kissing for a moment again, to look at Louis. He stared him straight in the eyes with his vulnerability, and his caring, and said, with much more confidence now, “I don’t expect anything, you know. If you say yes, you aren’t agreeing to anything but more of this,” he spoke so gently, careful of Louis, and what he might think. After a moment of Louis’ continuing confliction, he smiled, “It’s really just that my arms are getting tired,” with that Louis nodded, agreeing to be taken to Harry’s bed. 

Louis had looked at the bed before, but never dared to touch it, even when Harry was gone. It felt wrong to touch his things. _The Captain’s things._ But now, sitting on it, with Harry standing in from of him, tipping his head back to be able to keep his mouth against Louis’, Louis realized how much he missed a bed. It was plush and comfortable, and Louis’ body sunk in to it. It was covered in pillows and a blanket: something very unfortunately missing from Louis’ hammock. 

Eventually Louis was being laid back against the pillows, and the weight of Harry covered him, from the tip of his tongue right down to his feet. Louis tangled his hands back into his hair, which he’d decided was the very best place to put them. 

Harry’s however found the buttons of his loose cotton long sleeve. Louis had never been particularly confident in his body, except for his face, due quite simply to the fact that he’d been called “the pretty one” and ‘pretty little thing” all his life. But the idea of Harry, who Louis actually felt drawn to, looking at his body, scared him. He clearly insisted to himself that if Harry thought he was absolutely revolting they wouldn’t be in the situation they currently were, but the fear of disappointing him was even clearer. 

His fear, however, subsided when Harry finished the last button on his shirt and proceeded to begin to kiss and nip his way down Louis’ front. Louis’ whole body was on fire. And he, despite his wishes, could feel his pants tightening at the crotch. He did however, refrain from moaning out Harry’s name, until Harry reached his stomach and said, almost to himself, “fucking beautiful.”


	6. 1.6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis gets a taste of the more dangerous side of piracy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 8000 words of worrying so that's exciting.

There was something about sleeping in a bed, with silk sheets and pillows, that made Louis absolutely content. Perhaps it was that it felt like home. Perhaps it was that Louis wasn’t being slammed against the side of the ship every time it moved. Perhaps it was the warmth of another body against his back. Whatever it was, Louis found that he would very much like to keep it that way for as long as possible. In fact, he found that he might like to keep it that way forever. If possible, he would like, especially, to keep that body against him for even longer. 

The small window above the bed was letting light fall onto his face. With it came a warm air and just the slightest of twinkle on the bedding in front of him. He could tell that it was mid-morning -by the way the sun was looking down on the two of them. Louis really should have been getting up by then; trying to make himself useful, but he found himself far too comfortable to even contemplate such a thing. That, combined with the fact that the only person capable of reprimanding him for not getting up had his arm thrown awfully heavily over Louis’ waist. 

Harry’s breaths were slow and deep, and each time he breathed in, his chest would push closer to Louis’ shoulder blades. They had not, in fact, gone to sleep that way originally. Louis -always one to sleep on his side- had rolled himself to the edge of the right side of the bed, tugging the sheets up over his shoulders, and Harry, as lovely as he was, had reluctantly rolled himself to the left. But the ropes, which kept up the mattress, had, over time, loosened themselves, tipping anyone on them into the centre of the bed. And, as much as Louis felt he should, he couldn’t be particularly upset about it. 

It was awfully peaceful in the captain’s quarters. Louis found that he couldn’t hear a single thing from the deck, despite it surely being alive with shouts from the crew. Maybe Louis had imagined it, or his brain had chosen to ignore the noise, but he found that the captain’s quarters was silent, save for Harry’s slow and rhythmic breathing. Louis found himself very calm. Amid the rowdiness of the crew and the fast-paced life the sea provided, Louis found it hard to be completely calm. He could be drunk, which calmed his nerves, or content, from spending time with the various people on the ship that he found he actually quite liked, but calm was hard to find. 

Calm wasn’t something Louis’ life had ever really been. His life at home was anything but, what with the plethora of siblings constantly running around and the constant battle between his parents, but he still found a little bit of time. Sometimes, he’d be kept up awfully late, with his thoughts or a book, and once the stars were alive outside his window he’d go to look at them and find himself so at ease that time just seemed to slip away. And sometimes, he’d wake up very early, before anyone else, go out to the garden with one of his books, and just sit in the cool fog of morning for hours, enjoying his moment alone. Calmness always ended very quickly at home, though. Lottie coming in to his room, crying and asking why her father was screaming broke it. His mother, yelling for Louis to come inside before he burned to a crisp broke it. Something was always wrong in his house, but here, on this ship, it seemed as if nothing could ever go wrong. 

That was, of course, until Liam burst into the room, gasping for air. He stayed with his hand on the doorknob, his other grasping at the doorframe, as if he intended to leave as quickly as he came. He took no notice of Louis, instead looking directly at Harry’s sleeping form, seemingly expecting that he would simply awaken. 

By some strange supernatural force (or possibly Louis sitting up to get a better look at Liam), Harry did awaken. Luckily, just in time to hear Liam say “ship in the distance, can’t see the flag, but we reckon she isn’t Navy”. Louis knew what that meant. He knew it meant that his calmness had been broken, yet again. 

Harry bolted upright. He was wide-awake, as if he hadn’t been completely sound asleep not a minute before. His eyes were wide open and his hands gripped the sheets beside him, so tightly that Louis could see his veins through his skin. “Fuck,” he said, his voice soft, still his real self. He’d been woken too recently to have successfully put his mask on. He wasn’t a pirate yet, still just a man. 

Some sense seemed to be knocked into him quickly, and all of a sudden he was shouting out orders. “Ready the canons” he said, “tell the men to prepare for attack, but not to shoot until we know for sure.” As Liam left the room, Harry jumped from the bed. He grabbed Louis’ discarded shirt first from the floor, and in all of his hurry, attempted to put it on. In his defense, the two shirts had looked just the same, apart from their fairly obvious size difference. He threw the shirt to Louis, as soon as he realized, and went for the only other article on the floor. As he started on the buttons, he looked to Louis with the face of just a man. The man before him was anything but a pirate, even as he shrugged on his black overcoat. “Louis” he said firmly, but he sounded concerned, fearful, “I want you to find Gemma, and I want you to go and hide in the cupboard in the sleeping quarters, okay?” he said hurriedly, “and I don’t want you coming out until one of my men comes to get you” 

Louis felt that he should be offended by the way Harry had just assumed he wouldn’t be any use in a battle. Harry had, however, assumed correctly. Louis, not yet even seventeen, had never so much as looked at a weapon before boarding this ship. He knew, quite truthfully, that he would die quite quickly in a battle, if it came to that. He had absolutely no hope of holding his own against pirates, and was actually quite thankful that he wasn’t being forced to find out. 

For a moment, Louis wondered if what had happened the night before had anything to do with it. If maybe, if he hadn’t woken up with Harry’s arm wrapped around his waist, Harry would not have supplied a hiding place. But Louis reminded himself that he ought to stop thinking of Harry like that. Harry was not the sort of monster who would force Louis into battle with no ability to fight. Harry was a kind man. He was a gentle man. He was the sort of man who brought boys into his bed just to kiss them. He reminded himself that Harry was not a _being_ , but rather a person. A person who would be quite hurt by the idea that Louis thought he would leave him to die if it weren’t for the night. 

Louis had barely realized he was buttoning his own shirt until Harry was smoothing down his sleeves. It was endearing. Louis felt as if Harry was really caring for him, and his safety as he did so. There was something about Harry that made Louis feel so _safe_. Which was hard for even Louis to understand, because not twenty-four hours earlier had he been thinking about how much he feared him. The Harry that Louis had created in his mind, built on years of rumours and the still traumatising sound of gun shots being fired into men’s heads, was simply was not him. Harry was a boy, quick to anger and prone to violence, but not a monster by any standard. 

When he stood, Harry grabbed hold of both his biceps and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. His lips were dry and warm. He felt so close, and so peaceful, even in the face of what may have been his death. Louis shuttered at the thought. He had only just met the real Harry, and now he could be stolen from him. Louis wasn’t ready for that. He would never be ready for that. What he truly wanted was for Harry to come with him to his hiding place. Louis wanted to keep him safe, like he did for Louis. Louis wanted to make sure that no harm could come to him. He wanted to take Harry away from this mess, somewhere peaceful, together. But Louis knew Harry could never do such a thing. He was the captain, and the captain would go down with his ship. Harry could not just leave his men to fight a battle he ordered. His job was to lead the battle, to determine how it went, to see two steps in front of the other side. 

Harry finally set his hat atop Louis’ head. It was far too big for him, and fell over his eyebrows, but it was a piece of Harry, that he would gladly take with him. In part, it felt like a token of Harry’s affections. It made Louis feel quite special. As if Harry was declaring his love –well not his love, maybe his attachment. He chose Louis, to be the one that he cared for on the ship. He was trusted enough to keep what was surely a prized possession safe through the battle. _If a battle came,_ Louis reminded himself. 

As Harry pushed him out of the room, he gave him one final kiss. Then, Louis was left alone to make his way down the stairs. First, he stopped in the canon bay, to see Zayn and Steve running around the canons, loading them and checking them over again. They moved rhythmically, easily moving together as if knowing the same dance. There were other men, running bags and crates of gunpowder and cannonballs from one side to another. Louis figured that those were powder monkeys, although they were seemingly far older than a powder monkey ought to be. Louis reminded himself of Harry’s aversion to young boys. It was strange though, to see men who very well may have been ten years older than Zayn serving him. It made Louis proud in a way. These men respected Zayn, despite him being so young.

Zayn was in his element among the canons, Louis could tell. The once shy and subdued boy was barking out orders, and running from place to place as if he had done it a million times before. He knew his way around a canon bay: that much was more than clear. Zayn was confident in his words and comfortable in his space, it was like looking at a wholly different man. This Zayn was grown. This Zayn was a true pirate. It struck Louis that he’d never seen Zayn as a pirate. Zayn was an equal, and since Louis was not a pirate, Zayn was not either. But here, looking at Zayn conducting an orchestra of men, all listening intently to his commands, Louis knew that Zayn was not truly his equal. Zayn was preparing to go to war that day, and Louis was going to hide. Zayn had fought in battles before: he’d spent his whole life in battles, and Louis, had never even seen a street fight. 

Louis hurried himself along, careful not to break the choreographed action in front of him. When he reached the galley, he found Gemma sitting in the floor, in complete shock. “Gems” he said carefully, “you okay?” Gemma just shook her head. She’d pulled her knees in towards her chest and had her hands sat upon them. She stared straight forward, and it seemed almost like she was hearing Louis underwater. She was more withdrawn than Louis had ever seen. Again, she seemed trapped inside her own body, unable to move, or think, or talk. 

Louis did the only thing he could think to do, and went to tug Gemma’s inanimate body from the ground. Gemma was tall like Harry, which made it difficult for Louis to get her standing, but he refused to give up. He would not leave Gemma there: he would not leave her in danger. He could only think that Harry had trusted him with his hat, but also with his sister. Harry was counting on Louis to keep her safe: that was his job. He couldn’t fight in the battle, but he could sure as hell keep his captain’s sister safe. Louis tugged harder. 

As Gemma stood, she seemed almost as if she might be sleepwalking. She was solid on her feet, but certainly not in her head. She looked almost dead behind her eyes, mouth falling lax, and her hands limp at her sides. Louis led her quickly down the stairs to the empty sleeping quarters. The stairs were a struggle, with Louis walking backwards to support Gemma, as her feet seemed to fall down each step. It was scary to see her like this. She was so far gone, that it was just the shell of Gemma left behind. She was so deep inside herself that the world around her must have seemed like she was viewing it through a window. She was limp to say the least, but she wasn’t collapsing in Louis’ arms. That was the scariest of all: that Gemma was still a solid body, just with no mind. 

Louis led the two of them into the cupboard, just as Harry had told him to. It was small, and Louis silently thanked God for putting him into a small body. Gemma’s legs alone, despite being against her chest again, took up much of the space between the two of them. Louis sat across from her, legs crossed under him. His head brushed to bottom of a shelf that stored the extra hammocks. The cupboard was dark as anything, but as Louis’ eyes adjusted, he could see Gemma breathing more normally again. 

There was little to be heard, except for the creaks of the ship as it rocked in all its hast. There, in the dark, the sound started to set Louis’ teeth on edge. All there was to focus on was Gemma, as she slowly came to. He could see the life restore itself in her, slowly. But all there was to do was wait. He waited for what felt like hours, sitting in the dark, with nothing to do but worry about her. He’d never dealt with something like it: he’d never seen someone so far gone. 

Soon, Gemma had calmed herself down enough that she could reach out for Louis’ hand. She held it for quite a while; her own fingers still ice cold. She was still not with Louis, but finally conscious enough to be aware of his presence. She looked scared. There was still this biting fear in her eyes, and Louis could tell that it was fear of herself. 

“I’m sorry,” she said eventually. It struck Louis that she must have been embarrassed of what had happened. When Louis had feared for her wellbeing, she must have felt like such a nuisance. 

Louis found himself quite upset by that. He felt awfully sad: thinking that Gemma thought of him as someone who would find what had happened annoying. Louis had just been worried. She certainly hadn’t annoyed him. “No,” he said, “don’t apologize.” He was desperate to get across to her that she hadn’t been bothering him while she’d been dealing with whatever that had been. He waited for a moment, deciding whether to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” 

Gemma shook her head, ‘It’s just –the fighting- it, uh –I don’t do well with it,” she struggled to explain. Louis could tell that there was something behind it. It was probably the same thing that caused that far away look the first time they spoke. There was something dark in Gemma’s past. There was something weighing her down and trapping her in. She was this bright, bubbly girl, but there was something just not right. There was something that made Louis nervous, that set him just a little bit on edge. He didn’t inquire further. 

“Well, we’re safe down here” Louis offered. He wanted to put her at ease, at least just a little bit, but feared that he might not be able to do so. He feared that he just didn’t have the capabilities to do so. 

They sat in the dark for quite a while. They waited for what felt like an hour with nothing but the sound of the rocking boat. Louis could tell they were both scared, not just for their own lives, but also for everyone else on the ship’s. Louis had friends who would be going into battle today. He had seen Zayn preparing. He could only imagine that sort of awful outcome that might come out of that day. 

He could envision Zayn dropping to his knees sobbing at the news that Liam had not made it. Zayn, who was so quiet, and so reserved, would cry out with such pain that even the dead would hear. He would scream with such heartache that it would bring even the most stoic of the crew to absolute tears. He could hear his sobs of “no, no, no” over and over again. Louis could see him rocking himself back and forth on the deck in a desperate effort to bring the slightest bit of calm into his body. 

It would be Louis who would have to pick him up from the floor. He would wrap his arms around Zayn shaking shoulders and tell himself not to break down too. He would be the strong of the two for that short moment. Louis would guide Zayn down the steps to somewhere safe, just as he did with Gemma. He would avoid the sleeping quarters, though, as it would bring on another wave of agony when Zayn saw Liam’s empty cot. 

Zayn would never be the same. His quiet would be transformed into distance, his nervousness turned to fragility. Zayn would be a piece of glass from that point on, easy to break, and easy to see through. It had only ever been with Liam that he’d seemed alive, and without him, Zayn would cease to exist at all. 

Louis shook himself of that thought. It was far too morbid, and far too early. The first shots had yet to be fired. No one had died, and no one would have to die. After all, Liam had only thought it was another pirate ship, he hadn’t been sure. A Navy ship, (despite what they would tell you) would give up their bounty to a pirate ship without so much as a shot fired. They would just surrender, and accept their inevitable death. Louis knew these things. Naval officers would be all talk at the dinner table, but the second they got drunk enough to be able to see Louis’ pretty eyes as possibly belonging to a women, they sang like canaries. Navy men were cowards. They would rather die than have to put up a fight of any sort. They carried the gun for show, and to fire off their ships at night as a display of their incredible bravado. 

And even if Liam was right, surely pirates had allies. Perhaps it would be a friendly passing. Maybe Harry would greet an old friend and he would passing the ship without any conflict at all. If Harry and The Great Captain Malik were on good terms, then certainly Harry had other friends. 

The first canon fire came all of a sudden. One moment, they were floating towards an unknown destiny, and then there was the sound of a canon. It didn’t hit them, because Harry was smart, and would know not to sail within firing range without knowing whom the ship belonged to. It was _loud_. Louder than anything Louis had heard, with a positively booming roar. 

But it wasn’t anything like hearing a canon be dislodged from right above his head. That was more of a pop, but a loud pop at that. He could almost feel the release of pressure through his whole body. It shook that whole ship, and Louis himself was thrust into the side of the cupboard. His head hit the side of the ship rather hard, and the reverberations of the canon fire threw him right back against the other side. His shoulder hurt, his head killed, and he could feel bruises forming all over. 

Then he looked to Gemma, who would surely be shaken by it too. He expected her to be back into her distant state. He expected that the shot would set her off. But instead, she sat with her knees pulled tightly to her chest again, and her hands covering her ears. She was rocking just the slightest, too. The look on her face was one of pain, as if the sound had actually hurt her to hear. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes were drawn tightly shut, despite the fact that the room was still completely dark. Louis did the only thing he could think to do, and put his hand on her knee. 

Louis’ sisters had always been scared to death of thunderstorms. It was something that Louis had always suspected had started in just one of them, and then spread through the rest of them like the plague. Nonetheless, they had always crowded into Louis’ bed when thunder sounded, in various states of distress. By the time Louis had left, Lottie had been there mostly because everyone else was, while Daisy was crying her eyes out in what seemed to be actual fear for her life. The one thing that Louis had found to work was to cuddle. His sisters had always liked to feel safe in each other’s arms. There was something about touch that always calmed them down. And perhaps it was because Gemma had grabbed his hand earlier, but more likely because she reminded him so much of his own sisters that he figured it at least had a chance of working. 

Gemma stilled at his touch. For a moment Louis wondered if that would set her off like Harry, but instead she relaxed. She breathed out very slowly, and then began to open her eyes, cautiously. It was when she took her hands off her ears that Louis knew something was working. It was when she placed his hands over Louis’ that he knew it had worked. She didn’t dare look at him, but she looked at their hands, and that was enough for him. She knew he was there, at the very least. She knew that someone was there to make sure that she was okay. 

When another canon shot came again, Gemma didn’t turn herself into a ball, but she squeezed Louis’ hand tightly as anything. She had the same look of discomfort and fear, but it looked as if she could get through it. She knew she’d survive. Even if not everyone did. 

Louis suddenly worried about Harry. The captain would be the target of the day. Louis knew that if a captain got taken down, the whole ship was at the mercy of the attacker. Louis wouldn’t know until he was killed that Harry was dead. He would never get to grieve like Zayn would. He would be in this cupboard until the ship went down, or someone found them and shot them. He wouldn’t get to drop to his knees and cry. He would just know. In his final moments he would just know. He vowed to himself, there and then, that if he were to die today, he would mourn Harry in his final moment. He wouldn’t forget him. 

The canons fired again. It had come from their side, but Louis could here it making contact. Zayn had made a hit. Louis knew enough about ships to know that one cannonball wouldn’t take it down, but it had gained them the advantage. He’d known that Zayn would have been good, if he’d been trained by his father’s crew, but he hadn’t expected him to be able to get a hit that quickly. Louis put his faith in Zayn then, he trusted that Zayn could get them through this alive. 

Another shot came from the other ship. Louis heard it fall into the water not far from him, just on the other side of the ship’s wall. They were close then. At any moment a cannonball could come screaming through the ship’s hull, and Louis would be in its exact point of impact. 

He couldn’t imagine what being hit by a cannonball would feel like. He could only think it must feel like being hit in the stomach by a football, but then reminded himself that getting the wind knocked out of you was not at all equivalent to being killed. As Louis’ thought about it, he realized that he had never been in considerable pain in his life. The worst pain he had felt was falling and scraping his knee on the forest floor or burning the bottom of his feet on hot stones. He had lived so far from anything that could hurt him that pain was almost foreign. And now, here he was, one shot away from being in the worst pain he could imagine. It was then his turn to squeeze Gemma’s hand in fear. 

He needed to distract himself. He needed to stop listening for every shot. He would worry himself to death if he did. “Let’s talk.” he told Gemma. Gemma looked at him like he was crazy. He could sense that she probably didn’t want to talk at all, but Louis would persist. He knew it would be best for the both of them to stop listening. They both needed to get out of the mindset that they were preparing for their deaths. He wondered what to talk to her about. He didn’t want to discuss Harry any longer, because thinking of Harry would just make him more nervous, and he didn’t want to tell her about his life at home, because that was absolutely depressing, so he settled upon his sisters. “You know,” he started, “I’ve got sisters, lot of them” 

“Hm” Gemma said, to confirm that she was listening, “how many?” 

Louis sighed, at least she was trying, “Five, and a brother” 

“Younger?” Gemma inquired. 

“Yeah, all of them. There’s Lottie who’s eleven, and Fizzy who’s nine, then the twins: Daisy and Phoebe, who are both six, and then the little ones Doris and Ernie, both of them 3. Cute as buttons, but total menaces, the lot of them. They like to pull things and then blame it on each other. You know, it’s always the younger ones. Lottie and Fizzy blame the twins and the twins blame the little ones. It’s a total mess. And our tutors always hated them” Louis paused for a moment then, wondering if he should have told her that he had a tutor. Gemma didn’t know anything about Louis’ family, and it wasn’t like she would automatically discover that his father was Troy Austin. She probably already assumed Louis was from a naval family. All the naval officers were awful to pirates, but there was something special especially awful in his father’s nature that caused him to think that Harry wouldn’t enjoy to know that Louis came from that lineage. Especially after he’d kissed him. 

Though, Gemma had proved herself to not be a snitch. After she had found him, and refused to tell Harry where he was, Louis had decided that she would never go to him. Which may have been a false assumption, but Louis would stick with it. 

Gemma just nodded, not taking much notice of the tutor comment, it seemed. She obviously wasn’t caring all that much about the actual substance of what he was saying, but judging by the way her eyes were on him, she wanted him to continue speaking. 

Louis thought that the sound of his voice must have been just as therapeutic for Gemma as speaking was for him. He would gladly keep speaking until the canons stopped firing, if Gemma was okay with it. “Lottie’s just started to think she’s a proper lady, right, so she’s into all the latest fashions now. At home she always begged for whatever colour dress was stylish, and to have her hair done up like they do it in London, which I always find funny, because she’s never even been to London. She was born on Hispaniola, like all the rest of them were” Louis could tell he was rambling, but rambling seemed to be doing the trick, as he hadn’t noticed a canon shot in all the time he’d been speaking. “You grew up in London didn’t you?” He asked, trying to get her talking. 

Gemma nodded, “Aye, we lived right at the Thames, because Dad had his inn which mostly served sailors. We used to go swimming in it when it was nice out.” she explained, “were you born in London, Louis?”

Louis panicked again for a moment. He’d been born in Chatham, by the docks, because his father was a Naval officer. Everyone knew that children born in Chatham were only ever born there because their fathers were in the Navy. But she couldn’t see through that. She wouldn’t just know who his father was because of where he was born. He decided to err on the side of ambiguity, just in case. “I was born on the coast” he said, shaking his head, “but in the winters we went to London to live with my grandparents, before we moved here” 

That much was true. Louis’ mum didn’t much fancy the coast in winter, when the edges of the water would freeze and snow would cover the beaches. There was never anything there for them. Louis spent all four winters that he lived in England for, in his grandparents’ house in London. It had been small and warm, and Louis didn’t remember all that much about it. He had vague memories of sitting by a fireplace and drinking cups of hot tea, but not much else. In all honestly, he wasn’t sure he could even remember what his grandparents looked like.

“It must have been nice to grow up here,” Gemma said. She had a misty look in her eye, as if imagining what it might be like. 

Louis shrugged, “It really wasn’t that nice. Sure it’s warm and all, but it’s nothing like a big city. There was never anything to do except sit around and-“ he started, only to be interrupted by the sound of an anchor dropping just beside his head. 

Louis knew what that meant. He knew that any moment, there would be real fighting above him. Real shots fired and real swords drawn. People were about to die. People he knew were about to die. He could only worry about Harry. 

He’d never seen Harry fighting in action. Louis could at least assume that he was good enough to have survived for so long, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of Louis’ mind, _what if he wasn’t good enough_. Louis could not lose him, just after he’d gotten him. And there Louis was, sitting in his hat, protected from it all, doing nothing to save him. Louis had never felt more awful in his life. 

Then, all of a sudden, Louis’ mind stopped. The first gunshot was fired. And the first scream was made. Louis shuddered and Gemma tensed. The two of them would not be talking any more. After that shot, it was time to wait, and listen. To try to figure out who was dying. 

Although they both didn’t say it, they were trying to sound out who it was from their screams. Louis tried his very best to think what Harry might sound like dying, but he couldn’t. Maybe it was because he didn’t know him well enough, maybe it was because he was too scared, or maybe it was because of how much he didn’t want to hear whatever sound it was. He tried to think of Zayn, and what he might sound like, and he could get a sound, but he didn’t know if it would be right. He’d never even heard Zayn speak above his regular tone, let alone scream in pain. He knew these men, but not as well as he thought he should, and that hurt. It hurt that he was just beginning to know them and that they might be torn from him after today. 

He could hear the clangs of swords above his head now, which meant that they had force their way onto The Rose. Any advantage gained by Zayn’s canons had then been lost. They were losing. Louis had read enough about Naval battles to know that they would not retreat once they were on the ship, and that it was either Harry who would go down, or all of the intruders. _Fuck_.

Louis and Gemma waited for what felt like forever, hearing the clashes of swords and the shots of guns until their ears were numb. Every time a clank or a shot came, Louis would convince himself for a moment that Harry was dead, until he heard the next. The battle would end with Harry ending, and so, as long as it raged on, Harry was going to be okay. He waited patiently for every sound, to tell him that his Harry was okay. 

Until, it all stopped. There was one final slash, and then the sounds all stopped. There were no cheers, no cries, nothing to tell Louis what had happened: who had won. So Louis was left to wait, with his hand in Gemma’s, squished into a little cupboard. Louis reminded himself of his promise: if whoever opened the door had come to kill them, he would mourn Harry, in his very last moment, he would miss him. So that up in heaven, when they were reunited, he could be happy to see him. They would see each other again, whether it be in life or death, but they would see each other. If Harry was dead up there, it wasn’t the end of whatever was between them, it would just be different. He’d always been told that being gay was a sin, so perhaps he wouldn’t be allowed to kiss Harry in heaven, but he could love him all the same. Even if it was a sin, he thought he might love Harry. 

There was nothingness for quite a while, and all that could be done was wait. Louis tried to decide if he wanted to be discovered or not. If he were discovered, he would be dragged up to the deck and put in that same line up again. But he didn’t know who the captain was. Maybe he could save himself again. Captain Grimshaw had just wanted him because he was a carrier, and he couldn’t have been the only captain like that. Louis could use that, he could flirt, and he could pretty his way into living. But deep in his mind, Louis knew that if he saw Harry’s body on the deck like he had Captain Grimshaw’s, he wouldn’t be able to do that. 

On the other hand, if he were not discovered, he would be drowned when they sunk the boat. He wouldn’t have to see Harry’s body, but he had no chance to live. He could swim, sure, but he also knew that when the boat started to fill, there would be no chance to escape. It would be hours upon hours until that was done, though. He and Gemma would have to sit there, in total silence for hours as the crew looted the ship. At least then, his body would lie with Harry’s. They could be together if he wasn’t discovered. 

There was then, of course, the possibility that the crew would move into The Rose, after the damage that had been made to their own ship. Then Louis and Gemma would be stowaways. Then they would have to figure out how on earth to survive in this cupboard. Louis didn’t want to die of dehydration, slowly and painfully, seeing Gemma do the same. 

Louis was torn from his weighing of possibilities by the door to the cupboard being yanked open. And there stood a man that Louis didn’t recognize. That was it, Louis was sure, until Gemma pushed herself up off of the floor and went to hug whomever the boy was. And Louis knew then, that they would live. Someone had come to rescue them, not to kill them, and that was all he needed to know. 

In the back of his mind, he knew that must have meant that Harry was alive, but he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about it too hard, and get his hopes up for something that might not be true. He didn’t want to become excited to see Harry, if it was only to turn out that he had not lived through that battle. The three of them marched up to the deck, slowly. Louis wondered if it was him that they were slowing down for, or if Gemma also didn’t want to see the outcome. 

Louis didn’t like blood. He’d decided that quite quickly, and so he just about vomited when he saw the deck of _The Rose_. It had been a dirty fight, that much was clear as day. There were bodies all around him. It seemed almost as if every inch of the once brown deck was now splattered with red. It was deep, ruby red, and it was starting to soak into the porous wood of the ship.

Louis didn’t spot anyone he knew particularly well among the dead, but he knew that some of the men he had spent that day with were gone. He spotted Ed among the congregation of the living near the mast, but the man who had poured rum glass after rum glass straight into his stomach -Louis couldn’t spot him. _People he knew were dead_. 

He was near the back of the group, and awfully short, so Louis couldn’t see to the front, where Harry, if he’d lived, would be standing. Louis could only feel the same sort of upset he’d felt when the shots had stopped. If Harry was dead, he didn’t know what he would do. He felt almost like he would collapse on the spot. He felt like he might die himself. 

He was, quite luckily, dragged from that morbid train of thought by Zayn slamming into him with his arms wrapped tightly around him. Zayn buried his nose him Louis neck and held him there. Slowly, as Louis came to, he wrapped his own arms around Zayn. The two boys held each other for probably five whole minutes, silently thanking their own gods that the other was alive. 

When they pulled away, Zayn looked straight into Louis eyes and asked, “Where is he?” And for a moment, Louis thought he was talking about Harry, before he came to his senses and pointed Zayn towards the broad shouldered lad about halfway into the group. 

Zayn yelled something over the crowd in his own language -which Louis knew nothing of- but he could assume it was a pet name of some sort, because Liam whipped his head around and his entire face lit up in this sort of joy and relief that Louis had never seen. Zayn sprinted through the crowd towards him, and when he reached him, he jumped into his arms and wrapped his legs around Liam’s waist. He held him tightly, with his arms wrapped around his neck as if he never intended to let him go. 

Louis basked in the love between them for a moment, but Zayn’s run had left a gap in the group, and it was just enough for Louis to see a mess of curls and a long overcoat, all the making of a captain, just missing the hat that sat on Louis’ head. 

Louis dropped to his knees right there. He had never been so relieved in the entirely of his short, short life. 

***

It was much later, after they’d brought on the new crewmembers and cleaned up the dead, which had been one of the most upsetting things Louis had ever seen, that he found himself in the sleeping quarters with the remaining men. 

They’d chosen to eat below deck, because it seemed that none of them could bear to eat among the blood of their own friends. It had been a mostly quiet affair, with a couple of the men cracking a joke every so often that would merit a small smattering of laugher, but died very quickly. It seemed that no one wanted to talk. People had lost best friends that day, people they’d known for years, men they loved. There wasn’t much room for humour or rowdiness among all of the sadness that hung over the ship. 

Louis sat towards the back, against the ship’s wall with Zayn. They too had sat in silence, but the two of them were sitting so close that it felt like they’d almost become one.

Louis was on his last piece of fish (which was only the slightest bit rotten) when Zayn spoke for the first time. “I’m going to marry him” 

Louis remembered that just the other day; they’d been talking about how Zayn wasn’t ready to do so, “really?” 

Zayn nodded, “I can’t lose him, Lou,” he said, “I really can’t”. He then looked on the verge of tears. As if the thought of it upset him so much that he couldn’t even bear to consider it. 

Louis understood what he was saying, but he couldn’t understand how Zayn had come around to the whole idea so quickly. He’d been so upset about the whole issue when they’d left Tortuga, and now he’d just completely made a full turn. 

“What about a baby?” Louis finally asked, finally, knowing full well it was what was on both of their minds. 

Zayn shrugged, “If I get pregnant, I think I’d really like to have Liam’s baby” was all he offered. Louis could tell that he wasn’t completely on board with it, but he’d come around significantly to the idea. Louis could also tell, that once he’d married Liam, there would be no _if_ about it. Zayn would inevitably get pregnant very quickly. He’d said it himself, “everyone knows that after you get married you have a baby” 

Louis couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous of Zayn. He found that he’d quite like to have a baby too. Which he knew was perpetuating a sort of carrier stereotype, but Louis couldn’t care less. He wanted himself a baby. He wanted to be pregnant, and carrying Harry’s baby as soon as tomorrow. He could try to avoid his own feelings about it, but either way they existed. He tried to remember that Zayn and Liam loved each other, and that he’d barely ever kissed Harry, but his feelings didn’t change. 

He could imagine what their baby might look like. It would be positively tiny, like Louis, but it would have those beautiful curls just like Harry. He couldn’t decide who’s nose it’d have, but he figured it would have Harry’s pretty green eyes. _God, he wanted a baby._

***

It was much later when Louis made his way into the captain’s quarters. He was nervous, but so, so, so relieved that he was returning to Harry, who was very much alive. 

Harry was sitting at his desk when Louis opened the door. He looked at Louis in a way that he liked to think was quite similar to the way that Liam had looked at Zayn on the deck. With relief, and joy. He didn’t pause in getting straight up from his seat and striding over to Louis, before pressing his lips hard against Louis’. The kiss was passionate, but not sexual in any way. It was just Harry affirming to himself that they were alive, and well, and together. Louis felt _loved_. 

He kissed back with the same enthusiasm as Harry, meeting him in the middle of his kiss. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, and pulled the two of them close together. He wanted to feel Harry’s beating heart against his. He wanted to feel how _alive_ Harry truly was. 

Harry pulled back after a few minutes, looking straight at Louis, not through him, or into him, but at him. He looked at Louis like he was a person, an equal. Louis was his and he was Louis’. They belonged to each other, but no one person had ownership over the other. This was equal. “Thank you for taking care of Gemma today” He paused, taking the hat off of Louis’ head, “and this” 

Louis nodded, “You’re welcome,” and then, “can we just-“ he said, motioning his head towards the bed. Harry seemed to understand quite quickly, and Louis expected that he would grab Louis’ hand and led him, but apparently he had decided against that and favoured extravagance instead. 

He put both of his hands onto Louis’ waist and lifted him, without any help from Louis, into the air. Instinctively, Louis wrapped his legs around Harry’s body, but he couldn’t help but laugh at how Harry had picked him up to walk three steps, “you didn't have to do that, you know” Louis told him, beaming down at Harry. 

Harry snorted out a laugh, “shh, you. I’m trying to be romantic,” he said as he walked the two of them over to his bed. He was smiling widely as well, enjoying the time together. Once he’d laid Louis down on the bed and come to lie over him, he spoke again, “if I could keep you here with me forever, and just never leave, I’d do it in a heart beat” 

“Yeah?” Louis asked in between kisses, “What about the ship?” 

Harry went to suck a bruise onto Louis’ neck, the pressure of his mouth deliciously tugging at the tender skin there, “reckon I’d let Niall run it. He’s just as qualified, just doesn’t have any interest in it” 

Louis found himself out of breathe from the way Harry was sucking on his neck, “I don’t want to talk about Niall” he told Harry, because he _really didn’t._

“Yeah,” Harry said as he undid the first couple of buttons on Louis’ shirt and ducked his head down to kiss his way along his collarbone, “Me neither”

Once Louis’ shirt is off in a corner of the room somewhere, and Harry’s along with it, Harry seemed to get bored of Louis’ collarbone, which was then littered with bruises in varying shades of red and purple. Louis loved the idea of being marked as Harry’s for everyone to see. He adored it. He nearly prayed to God that they would stay until the next morning, but then figured that that was probably a sin, and that God would probably not take very well to Louis prayer. As Harry pulled off of his skin, he wrapped his hands around both of Louis’ hips, and rolled over, to put Louis on top of him. 

His hands didn’t stay long on his hips, and very quickly found their way to Louis’ bum. They rested there, firmly holding him. “You’ve got the cutest arse I think I’ve ever see” Harry told him, “anyone ever told you that?” Of course, Louis had been told that, but never by anyone he ever cared about. He’d been told that by grown men while their hands were clawing at him in a broom closet, or pressing their fronts uninvited against him in a deserted hallway. The idea of the statement made him feel unsafe, but Harry saying it made it feel like it was kind, innocent even. 

_He loved Harry. That Louis knew_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!


	7. 1.7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Louis' birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who _really_ took their time on this. 
> 
> Also special thank you to larryficsandrec on tumblr ( I couldn't figure out for sure who you were on here and didn't want to tag the wrong person) for recing this fic. I meant to thank you last chapter but I didn't remember until it was much later, so I'm doing it now. 
> 
> Anyways, this is the end of part one, so the next chapter will be 2.1

Louis lay in Harry’s bed in the early morning of his birthday. The sun was just barely peaking over the horizon, the sky still pale, and the slightest shade of pink. Louis was used to the fog that fell over the sea in the last lights of night, and normally it didn’t bother him, but Louis was on the brink of being seventeen, and was more ready than he’d ever been. 

Harry was fast asleep almost on top of him, with his face buried in Louis’ shoulder blade and his mouth wet against his skin. He had his arm thrown over Louis’ waist and his leg trapping him down on his stomach, but Louis couldn’t find it in himself to mind. It was Harry, being Harry, with Louis, and Louis adored Harry. 

There was, however, one thing plaguing his mind, in the last attempts from night to keep hold of the earth. Louis knew exactly who he was: he was a child, but he was smart and cunning and had a knack for getting what he wanted. He knew he was pretty, and he knew that was his greatest leveraging point. He was almost hyperaware of those things, but with Harry, he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t bend Harry to his will; he couldn’t bear to wrap him around his finger. He had done it to every single man who had ever touched him, and yet, he was lying in a bed with a man who had never seen that half of Louis. He felt almost as if he was hiding part of himself from Harry, albeit the bad half of Louis. Did he explain the sort of boy he was to him? Or did he keep it safely tucked away, like he did from everyone else. 

_The first man to come see him after dinner was named John. He was important in the Navy, so Louis had never said anything about it, for fear that he would harm his father’s career (and light his father’s fiery side). He hadn’t done much, just kissed him a bit, and gripped Louis’ hips so hard that he’d had bruises there for days after. Louis was fourteen._

_He had been young, and naïve and confused by a man who was nearly three times his age taking an interest in him. He’d never even been kissed before. He’d thought John was in love with him. Which, looking back was embarrassing, but Louis had just been so young._

_John, of course, was not in love with Louis, but didn’t find that it deterred him from finding Louis at all sorts of times. When Louis was forced to go down to the docks with his father (in a last ditch effort to find the deeply buried masculinity that his father claimed was just hidden in Louis), John had pressed him against the back of a stock building the second his father looked away. Louis could sometimes still feel his tongue choking Louis as he pressed it further into Louis’ throat. He had been rough with Louis, as if to assert that despite the fact that he was kissing a boy, he was still a strong, masculine, man: all things that Louis was not._

_Louis had suffered through it for months. He’d even taken it when the word had gotten around that Troy Austin’s son would take just about anything, “just don’t get him pregnant. You don’t want to deal with that shit show.” The word had gotten around to all sorts of higher ups in the Navy, but seemingly never to his father. Or perhaps it had. Louis certainly wasn’t his father’s biggest fan, but he at least prayed that he hadn’t let that happen. But then again, he wouldn’t put it past him._

_Louis suffered, but he was smart. He got things that he wanted from them: gossip, treats, but what he’d gotten from John was Louis’ best work._

_John was important in the Navy, important enough that he had control over Louis’ father. Louis knew that, and he knew that he could use it to his advantage. He’d been saving it for when his father got bad again. It was when his dad had gone on a huge bender, and had threatened to hit his sisters that he used it. Louis could suffer to save them, and he did. So, in exchange for letting John stick his cock down Louis’ throat in his own bedroom, John promoted his father. It had been that simple, and all of a sudden his father was as happy as could be. He started to be the girls’ dad again, and put down his bottle almost immediately._

Louis was smart, and resourceful to say the least, but he didn’t want Harry to think that he was using him to gain an advantage. He truly cared for Harry, he really did. Harry was important to Louis’ life now: he was integral. Louis was manipulative, but not for a second had Louis thought of using it on Harry, he didn’t need to, and hoped that he never would. 

Harry stirred beside him for a moment, before snuggling himself even further into Louis, rubbing his face against Louis’ back. It was endearing, at the very least. Harry was so much like Louis when they were asleep. He wasn’t older than Louis (which he knew was something plaguing Harry’s mind), he wasn’t in charge of Louis, and he wasn’t putting up a front to anyone. He was Harry when he slept. Not Captain Styles, not a pirate, not withdrawn or damaged. Louis liked when Harry was asleep, but he was antsy for him to wake up, and start celebrating Louis’ birthday. 

Harry stirred not long after Louis awoke. Louis wouldn’t have known, except for the fact that Harry’s mouth had found its way to Louis’ neck and was making a crimson blush creep up with it. Harry’s arms had tightened around his waist and Harry was pressing himself more and more into Louis’ back. “‘S my birthday” Louis whispered to him. Suddenly, Louis remembered that he’d never actually told Harry about his birthday being on Christmas Eve. 

But soon Harry was grabbing hold of his waist and flipping them over to hold Louis against his front. Louis was lying on him, every inch of his body pressed to Harry’s. “I’ve heard, baby boy,” Harry told him, Louis’ heart tightening over the nickname. As cute as it was, and as much as it made Louis want to burrow into Harry’s chest and just stay there forever, the name reminded Louis of how young he was in comparison to Harry, despite the fact that he was now a year older. 

In comparison to Harry, who was nearly 25, Louis was a child. Even after his birthday, he would be closer to 10 than Harry’s own age. Men older than Harry had touched Louis, but it felt strange to want one to. Louis had always thought of men older than him as the enemy. They were the ones who were using Louis against his will; they were the ones who were making Louis’ life unbearable. And now, he was lying on top of a man, who was soon to be eight years older than him, calling him “baby boy” and Louis wanted him to. 

Harry dragged them out to the deck, where the sun had yet to make an appearance. The early morning fog had spilled over the ship, crawling towards the two of them like a snake in the pale light. Louis shuddered at the sudden blast of cold, tucking himself further into Harry’s side. The Captain, always a prepared one, wrapped a thin blanket around Louis shoulders before he could shiver again. 

The night Sailing Master was at the helm. He was a young man, and skinny as anything. He was a frail, tall boy, and as he looked to the scene of Louis and Harry on the deck, his thin face broke into a look of absolute disbelief. Harry however, was not having any of it, and promptly marched towards the man, leaving Louis to just watch. Harry exchanged a few very short, seemingly harsh words with him: words that seemed to spark fear into the scrawny man’s face. He scurried quickly away from the wheel to leave the two of them alone. 

Harry took control of the helm by himself, but not before lifting Louis up to sit on the box behind the wheel. Louis was nearly positive that the box he sat on was incredibly important for the ship and its ability to steer, but Louis was also near positive that Harry knew all of those things for sure, and had still chosen to sit Louis there. 

Harry smiled up at Louis, who sat just behind the wheel. “We’ll land in St. Kitts in about an hour. We’ll spend your birthday there. Just the two of us, is that okay?” Louis nodded, “unless you want to have some of the men at one of the pubs later tonight?” 

Louis thought about that for a moment. If he invited Zayn and Liam, Harry might hold his hand, but he certainly wouldn’t be this affectionate, and if he invited people like Niall or Steve, Louis would get nothing from Harry at all. Although it might have been nice to party, Louis was more thinking of a party where he was dancing close to Harry, with his lips of his neck. “Can we maybe just go to a pub, just the two of us?” Louis asked. 

Harry seemed to understand that along with it being just the two of them, the pub would be one where no one was particularly friendly with Harry either. Louis knew the sort of outrage it would cause among the other pirates. From his understanding (and long conversations with Zayn), Harry would be allowed to be sleeping with Louis all he liked, if it were not for the fact that Louis was his cabin boy. The idea of Captains sleeping with the young boys they employed as their servants was one often looked down upon. It was still popular among the older pirates (and the seedier ones) and still ran absolutely rampant on Navy ships, but the practice violated a lot of the newer ships codes, and many of the modern pirates looked to Harry for the general guidelines, so if he were to violate that law, it would be seen as a betrayal. So Louis was perfectly okay with leaving their relationship –or, _not-relationship_ \- under wraps.

Harry just nodded along with what Louis suggested before taking his hands off of the wheel (which seemed like a bad idea), to put his hands on both of Louis’ thighs where they sat crossed towards him. “What else do you want for your birthday, darling?” 

Louis thought about this for a moment. At home, he would’ve asked for something frivolous, like jewels, or books, but now he found he wanted for very little, other than to see his sisters, but that wasn’t realistic. “I’d like to post my letter to my sister” Louis offered, quietly. If he couldn’t see them, he wanted the next best thing. 

“I’ll get you the best mail carrier I can find to get it to her” Harry promised, “I’ll even have him return the next day to pick one up from her. I’ll have it delivered to Doniya, and we’ll pick it up next time we’re in Tortuga. You’ll hear from her, love, I promise” Harry spoke with such sincerity that Louis couldn’t help but believe him. “Anything else?” 

Now that Louis had gotten what was important out of the way, he could ask for the one thing he’d been kind of wanting, “I’d like to go to a sweets shop, I think” 

Harry laughed, but nodded his head dutifully, “I know just the place” 

*** 

It wasn’t all that much later, just before they docked on St. Kitts, that Louis pulled out his letter to read it over one last time. He’d had so much to say, and he just couldn’t get it out to Lottie the way that he wanted to. There was also this nagging feeling that the letter would find its way into the wrong hands. If his father got a hold of it, there would be a search party out for him by the first light of morning after it arrived. 

_Dearest Lottie,_

_I need you to leave the room to read this alone. Make up some excuse, but make sure that Mum or Dad doesn’t read this._

_I’m sorry for not leaving you a note in the first place, but leaving was such a split second decision that I didn’t even think through it enough to pack a bag, let alone leave any sort of note._

_I just want you to know that I’m alive, Lottie. And I’m not far from you at all. I’m not on the other side of the world, or even the other side of the ocean. I’ll probably be further when you get this, but I’ll never be more than a couple weeks sail from you._

_Lottie, I hope you know that my leaving had nothing to do with you or any of the rest of you. I miss you all so much it hurts. But you can’t tell any of them that you’ve gotten this letter; they’re all too young to understand not to tell._

_I know it’s hard to understand, but remember all of those terrible romance novels we read together? I hope you don’t hate me for wanting that for myself. I know that I explained what would happen when I left for London to you, and I know it doesn’t make any sense, but where I am now, I actually have a chance to have a life for myself._

_I can’t tell you much about where I really am, or what I’m doing, but know that I’m safe, and happy. Sometimes I wish that I could bring you with me, but it’s not a place for children like yourself (or young women, as I’m sure you’d prefer). Maybe someday you can join me._

_I’ve arranged to have the same mail carrier that brought this to you, come back tomorrow to pick up a letter from you if you’d like to write me one. It’ll be taken to a friend of mine, and I don’t know when I’ll be back to get it, but I’ll write you as soon as I get it._

_Now, I need you to burn this as soon as everyone has gone to sleep._

_I miss you, and love you,_  
_Louis_

Louis wished so much that he could tell Lottie all about Harry. They always used to gush about the boys that they liked late into the night: they were always boys in town who would never give either of them a second look, but they could gossip all the same. They used to eat sweets until their stomachs ached in regret, and then they’d eat some more, because they were young and stupid. Those nights were some of Louis’ favourite memories, and he knew that if he and Harry were at home, that would be all they could talk about. 

They used to have a bet going over who would get a boyfriend first. Lottie used to be adamant that she would beat him to it, with every boy who even looked her way being a possible candidate. But the bet had ended upsettingly, with tears as the news was announced that Louis was to be leaving in a week’s time. Louis had tearfully explained that he wasn’t getting a boyfriend at all. Lottie hadn’t quite understood it, but she’d known that Louis was very upset about it. 

Louis had been on _The Siren’s Spirit_ just hours after their final conversation. 

He had just wanted to get drunk, despite not knowing what it felt like. He just knew that it made his father feel better. His father would have hated to know that his son had been to a pirate’s bar, so in his fury, Louis had gone. 

Then the prospect of running away had come the second he’d set foot in the bar. He’d suddenly realized, among all of the roughed up men, that countless ships were at his service if he wanted them. And then Captain Grimshaw had approached him. 

*** 

The minute they docked, Harry let the men free to roam the town, sternly telling them that if any of them didn’t arrive back at the ship by sunrise, they’d be left without so much as a look back. Many of them were bouncing at the excitement of Christmas, and didn’t even notice the fact that as they all left; Louis had stayed on the ship with Harry. 

Once they were all out of sight, Harry quietly began to lead Louis, his letter held so tightly in his hand that he was starting to crease it, through the streets of St. Kitts, on a path that one would have to know about to fall upon it. The house they ended up at was small and just on the outskirts of the busy section, so it was almost eerily quiet amongst the now distant yells from the market place in the main square. It was covered in centuries old ivy, which climbed up the front and over the windows, creating this feeling that the house was not meant to be inhabited, despite the fact that Harry insisted it was. 

Harry had told him that the man who would take his letter to Lottie was an old sailor of his. He’d settled down with some woman he’d met when they were last in St. Kitts and had since taken up letter running to pay for expenses without a pirate’s salary. Apparently, carrying letters for pirates was a lucrative business, and he was well known enough from his days on _The Rose_ , that his clientele base was large and afforded him unbothered transit through the Caribbean. 

Louis hadn’t expected the man who opened the door. He was old, maybe forty-five, and growing a beard of alternating grey and brown. It was funny to see Harry interact with a man that age as if he were just a peer. Harry told him where the letter was to be delivered, then told him that he should return to the house the next day to take a letter from the little girl who he gave the letter to, and then to deliver that letter to Tortuga. It was a complicated plan, and cost Harry more gold than Louis would like to say, but he handed over the money easily for Louis. After all, it was his birthday. 

Harry promised that his man was trustworthy, but Louis worried anyways. If his letter fell into the hands of the Navy, there was enough evidence that the letter was from Louis Austin for it to get back to his father. Louis couldn’t even imagine what would happen if his father were to find out his whereabouts, but he feared it would either end in Louis being sent to London on the next ship, or his very quiet death. His mother wouldn’t even know that he how been killed, because his father would be smart enough to plant his body in the water and make it look like a drowning, or a murder by some ruffian. 

They spent the rest of the morning organizing the plans for Christmas the next day. Harry was adamant that they would have proper fresh chickens for dinner, and had to put in an order with one of the more “pirate-friendly” merchants for 10 chickens to be ready for the next day. He also had to buy things like bread and fruits for the same dinner. Harry seemed to be sparing no expense on the various niceties of Christmas; going to the most expensive of the merchants who would sell to him (which was a surprising amount). Everyone on St. Kitts seemed to know Harry, and was unsettlingly friendly to him. It was like the people weren’t afraid of The Captain, but rather liked Harry. Louis didn’t like it. Harry was his; The Captain could be shown to everyone else. 

They also bought Christmas presents for their friends. Harry said that everyone was just to give small things, but gifts were important and required. He picked up unsettling gifts, like pistols and swords adorned with jewels for his very best friends, and then little things for much of the rest of the crew, like sharks teeth, or rings dripping in gems that Louis couldn’t even name. Louis kept his list fairly short, just picking up little things for Liam and Ed (as a thank you for the tattoo) and then spent quite a while in a small bookshop looking for the perfect book for Zayn. The book, in the end was one meant for children, just like the one Zayn already had, because Louis knew that Zayn couldn’t read very well in English. Zayn had explained that he’d learned to speak English from birth, because it was an important language for trading, but he’d only ever learned to read and write in Arabic, until about six months ago when he’d decided that he’d better learn. 

The afternoon was spent in various shops where Harry bought everything Louis so much as looked at. Suddenly, Louis went from owning one shirt, one pair of pants, and a pair of shoes, to having an entire satchel of the best clothes pirate money could buy. He had pants made of cotton, and leather and nearly snake skin -which Louis had refused, because he thought they would look silly. He had another pair of shoes, which was Harry’s only practical purchase, because Louis’ were starting to wear along the bottom. He had an overcoat that made him look just like a captain, black with gold piping along the edges and glittering gold buttons. It was stupid, and over the top for a cabin boy, but Louis had lingered on it in the shop for a moment too long before Harry was shouting at the shop owner that he’d take it. 

Louis’ favourite purchase was the hat Harry bought him. It was made to match the coat, and it was dripping with gold piping. It had a feather just like Gemma’s, but in red instead of turquoise. Louis felt like a proper pirate with it on, and he and Harry looked important and awfully distinguished walking down the cobblestoned street in matching overcoats and hats. 

Louis’ favourite part of the day was the sweets shop they visited. It was full of candy from all over the world, in flavours Louis didn’t even know could taste as good as they did. He and Harry took turns shoving whatever sweet they could find into the other’s mouth and seeing which ones they enjoyed best. By the time the sun was setting, they were walking back to the docks to put a massive bag of various sweets in the cabin, along with Louis’ new clothes. 

*** 

The spent the night in a tavern chock full of St. Kitts locals, the vast majority of whom could not identify Harry from his face. Harry was just some traveller, bringing his date out for a night of fun. They didn’t look like pirates, after they both took off their overcoats and hats, and no one could tell who Harry was, so really, they weren’t pirates at all. 

Harry brought him a drink, and let him drink out of his cup when Louis wanted to. It almost felt like he had a boyfriend. Which wasn’t what Harry was, because he hadn’t been asked yet, but it felt like it. 

They both stayed as sober as possible. It was this unspoken rule that they’d created between the two of them: that they weren’t going to get drunk that night. They both drank a little, but the second Louis’ head felt even the slightest bit dizzy, he put his drink down until the feeling subsided. Louis couldn’t put his finger on why they both wanted to stay sober, until much later, but he found that he quite liked having fun without alcohol getting in the way. 

When someone finally broke out a fiddle, it was just past midnight, and so Louis had officially been seventeen for one day. He told Harry as much, and the man thought it was cause for celebration and so, pulled Louis onto the dance floor immediately. They joined the various other people celebrating the beginning of Christmas, absolutely plastered. Every so often, Louis would be bumped into by someone so drunk that they were close to passing out, but every time, without fail, they wished Louis a happy Christmas. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people already exchanging gifts, even if the sun hadn’t even risen yet. 

They danced for what felt like forever, touching their bodies to every part of the other man. Louis moved his hips rhythmically to the music, and if they were consistently moving his bum back into Harry’s crotch, that was to be kept between the two of them. Harry’s hands glided around Louis’ body to hold his hips flush against his. Louis’ hand found its way into the back of Harry’s hair blindly, and the slight pressure he applied caused Harry to move his lips down onto the juncture between Louis’ neck and shoulder. He mouthed at it for a while, as if trying to get a taste for it, before settling on a place to suck on. Louis could feel a bruise forming on the spot, but he found that he couldn’t make himself mind it all that much. Louis liked getting marked by Harry. He liked feeling like he belonged to him, like Harry was willing to yell from the rooftops that Louis was his, and that everyone should know it. 

Louis took this move by Harry to mean that they could kiss here, and so, took full advantage of this. He turned himself around in Harry’s arms, despite the fact that Harry was holding on tight to him, and crashed his mouth into Harry’s. Harry immediately responded to Louis’ kiss, quickly moving his tongue into Louis’ mouth and moving around it, just like he always did, as if he’d memorized what it felt like. 

They kissed there for quite a while, surrounded by people jumping and dancing to the music flooding the tavern. Their hands were tugging at each other, begging to get closer, _closer_. Louis wanted to be so pressed against Harry that they became stuck together. He wanted to be so close that they shared a pulse, a heartbeat, and a thought. There was nothing Louis wanted more than to be close to Harry. He would have given up that whole day. He would have given up the clothes and the gifts and the candy, and maybe even the letter to be close to him, in that moment he was so desperate to be part of Harry that he would do anything. 

Louis had never wanted to have sex with anyone, ever, until that moment. On the dance floor, kissing this man who was so kind to him, this man who really cared about him, Louis just wanted to be close to him, and show him that he cared for him too. Louis desperately wanted that. 

They kissed intermittently on the way back to the ship, pressing each other up against buildings to crash their mouths into the other when the need to touch became too much. They were both too involved in the other to care about people seeing them, and both too absorbed in the space between the two of them to even remember if anyone was on the streets. All Louis could process was the feeling of Harry’s mouth on his, or on his neck, or his collarbone and the cold, uneven stone the pressed into his back. 

By the time they’d gotten back to the ship, by were giggling at each other, chastising the other for being too loud. They stumbled through the door of the captain’s quarters far too loudly for it to go unnoticed, but neither of them really cared all that much. 

They found themselves tangled on Harry’s bed within seconds. _Closer, closer,_ Louis’ mind echoed over and over. Harry’s hands had found their way under his shirt, running his hands over Louis’ skin. He was boiling hot. Louis felt like he was on fire, burning at Harry’s touch. He wanted more, _more_. Their clothes came off easily, without so much as a thought between the two of them. They were breathing heavily in between kisses, into each other’s mouths, into each other space. The air between them was thick and heavy with want, and asking, and need. 

Eventually, Louis felt Harry’s middle finger pressing lightly against his hole, wet from his spit. He broke off the kiss swiftly and shortly, only to ask, “is this okay?” 

Louis had to catch his breath for a moment, but Harry waited for his answer, looking intently into his eyes, to make sure he was positive about his answer. Louis was positive that he wanted Harry to touch him there, definitely, for sure. He nodded to Harry, “yeah, that’s okay” 

Louis had never had anyone inside of him but himself before. It was one of those things that belonged exclusively to Louis, but then, Harry was inside of him too. It felt almost more important than giving Harry his virginity; this was something Louis owned. Louis owned his body consciously, while he was just the keeper of his virginity. He’d always been under the understanding that eventually he’d give his virginity to someone, but he’d never thought about the fact that one day he would share part of his actual body with someone else. 

The feeling of it could only be described as weird. Louis could feel Harry inside of him, moving his finger in and out. And he started to think that he quite enjoyed the feeling of it. Not only because it felt good, but because he felt close to Harry, he finally felt close enough. They were finally sharing a pulse, and a heartbeat and a thought. Louis was nervous to ask for more, he didn’t know how Harry might react to it. _Was asking for more asking for sex? And was Harry willing to have sex with him?_

“Um” Louis started quietly. Harry’s head shot up to his face to look at him as he spoke, “can you, um, –another?” He spoke it like a question, so that Harry could say no, if he wanted to. 

“Sure, baby” Harry said smiling fondly down at Louis. He took his finger out of Louis, and added his index finger to his middle finger as he circled Louis’ hole again. This time it felt uncomfortable. But Harry was gentle, and took his time to open Louis up until it felt good again. 

Louis could only bear it for so long, before his body was begging for more from Harry. But the feeling of it was too much; Louis struggled to get more than “I-I”. 

“What do you want, darling?” Harry offered, moving his fingers again inside of Louis, making him shutter at the sensation. 

“You” 

Harry just smiled down at him, and kissed him softly once before telling him, “you’ve already got me, baby boy”

“I mean –I mean- I want you, and me and-“ 

Harry laughed, “You’re going to have to be more specific, darling, I mean I can’t-“

“Can we have sex?” Louis asked all of a sudden. Somehow he had mustered the courage out of nowhere to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind all night. Then, he realized why neither of them had drank at the tavern. This was the plan all along. It had been unspoken, and unannounced, but this was Louis’ birthday present –aside from the clothes and sweets and drinks and the mail carrier. 

Harry looked concerned. He looked almost as if he feared that perhaps Louis thought he was expecting it. Louis had assumed that Harry would think as much. Harry thought of him as a child, who couldn’t possibly want to have sex with Harry, who was something of a predator, preying on teenage boys. Louis could almost hear Harry getting mad at himself over it. “Are you sure?” he didn’t tack a nickname onto the end this time, which meant he was serious about it. 

Louis felt him pull his fingers out of his body, and he suddenly felt very empty, but also anxious to get filled again. “Yes, Harry, I’m definitely sure” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Harry took a deep breath before getting up off of Louis and going towards the desk to search through the drawers, whispering to himself, “yeah, okay, we’re going to need, um, oil, yeah, oh here it is” as he retrieved a small vial of some sort of oil. Harry seemed nervous, just like he had been the first night that he’d kissed Louis. Louis could tell that he wanted it to be good for Louis, to which Louis himself wanted to scream that it already was. 

He started with one finger again, this time wet with oil. It glided much more easily into Louis: his body finally accepting Harry inside of him. Harry opened him up slowly, telling him every time he added another finger in, each time with slightly more resistance. With two in, he scissored them inside of Louis to open him up more. At three fingers, Louis felt ready to take Harry inside of him. Louis wasn’t used to the feeling of letting someone else control his sensations. He was scared to feel good, and vocalize it, but also scared that he wasn’t being good if he didn’t speak. 

Harry was more vocal than Louis had ever heard him. Normally, he only spoke when he had to, purely for communication’s sake, but then, with his fingers exploring the inside of Louis, he was a fountain of words. “Yes, baby”, “God baby”, “So tight”, and “So good, Lou” spilled from his mouth as if he wasn’t even aware that he was talking. It did make Louis feel better about himself: with Harry responding so well to what seemed to be every time he breathed. 

When Harry finally eased himself into Louis, it hurt. Harry had warned him as much, but it had been hard for Louis to imagine the pain until he was actually experiencing it. But Harry waited for Louis’ word as to when to move. They probably spent a good ten minutes just sitting there, with Harry inside of him, just waiting as Louis caught his breath. Louis was sure that he’d fucked half of the people on the islands, and yet, he was waiting for Louis, who was nothing. 

It wasn’t only the pain that forced Louis to take a second, but also that he’d broken his own expectation without even thinking of it. He’d always thought that he’d be married when he had sex with someone, and then once the idea of marriage was out of the question, he’d thought that he’d at least wait to have sex with a man who was his boyfriend. And Harry was neither his husband nor his boyfriend: he was his captain -who he kissed, and now seemingly had sex with. He’d given his virginity to Harry, who would have failed Louis’ old checklist for possible partners with a score of absolute zero. He was sharing a part of his body with a man who was absolutely nothing like what he’d always imagined he would be. But he was perfect. 

“You can move now,” Louis told him. 

Harry nodded, almost to himself, before starting to move his hips in and out. It was still uncomfortable, and the feeling was foreign, but slowly Louis began to realize why people liked sex. It wasn’t just that it felt good, because it did, but also because he felt so close to Harry. They were sharing something that no one could take away from the two of them. Louis liked that. Louis loved that. 

Harry started to thrust harder and faster into Louis, giving him more, more. They were both gasping for air, alternating between smashing their mouths into each other in desperation and breaking away to catch their breaths. It was fast, and passionate and they were there together, for the very first time. They were one being, one entity. 

Louis found out very quickly that he was a moaner. He wasn’t much for actual words, but sounds escaped his mouth every time that Harry hit just the right spot inside of him. Harry was the exact opposite. He was whispering into Louis’ ear, and crying out loud full sentences of “yes, baby, so good, so good” and “you’re the best I’ve ever had darling, best I’ve ever had”. 

Louis could feel himself getting closer to orgasm. He could also feel that Harry was nearing his own, as his movements became more erratic and urgent. He was pushing into Louis faster, harder and deeper, hitting his prostate dead on every single time. Harry’s hand had come to circle around his cock, pumping his hand up and down in time with his thrusts. Louis was getting even closer. 

Suddenly, Louis felt Harry begin to pull himself out of him completely. He pouted at the emptiness as his hole fluttered around Harry’s leaving cock. Louis had meant for the pout to be kept to himself, but Harry – being the observant man he was – saw, and spoke to Louis quietly, all of his energy drained from him, “you know I can’t, baby” he said it almost as if he was trying to convince himself as well. 

Louis did know, of course, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t want Harry to come inside of him. It wasn’t even that he wanted to be pregnant, because he knew it was not a good time for that, but he just wanted to give Harry _everything._

Harry brought their cocks together, to jerk the two of them off together, fast and urgent, chasing the high of coming. 

When they both did come, it was within seconds of each other, and awfully quiet. The novelty of sex had worn off, and instead satisfaction had settled in. Harry cleaned them both off with a rag that had been lying around on the floor, before tucking the blankets around Louis, and cuddling up behind him. Harry kissed his cheek once before whispering into his ear, “happy Christmas, baby”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment because it makes me happy <3


	8. 2.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm so glad that I keep such a good schedule and don't just disappear like _some_ authors.
> 
> Just kidding. As an apology for being shitty and not writing, I've added some extra special fun things to this chapter including but not limited to:  
> 1\. A special long length at 12.5k  
> 2\. sex  
> 3\. the use of "fuck" once a page  
> 4\. The overuse of italics that you've come to expect from me  
> 5\. excessively historically accurate 17th century lube knowledge   
> Have fun.

“Fuck” Louis exclaimed as blood spilled out of his hand. He shook the hand out, which probably only made it bleed more, but lessened the sting for at least a moment. In the dark of night, he couldn’t quite see the red of his blood, but its shine caught on the stars and twinkled as it ran down his wrist. It stung like all hell, but Louis was no stranger to cuts, and could tell he’d be fine. 

“Did I cut you?” Liam asked from across the deck, sword still drawn. Louis could see the whites of his eyes glowing the dark. He looked a little bit like he thought Louis might die. He sheathed his sword quickly at his side and ran towards Louis to check out his damage. 

Their options were limited as to what to do. They couldn’t light a torch to see the true extent of the injury, even if Louis was sure it was nothing. There was nothing to wrap it in on the deck, and even then neither of them had any idea of how to wrap it. They probably had to wash it out, too. “Harry is going to murder me!” Liam exclaimed, “How the hell are you going to explain that?” he spoke more to the actual cut than to Louis. 

“I’m going to say that I had to pee in the middle of the night and slipped, hitting my hand rather hard on a hook in the process,” Louis said nonchalantly. He’d managed to successfully hide his nightly lessons from Harry for nearly three months now, and he did not intend on letting him know any time soon.

“We still need to deal with this,” Liam said, calmer now, “I should wake up Zayn” 

Oh course Liam had to wake up Zayn! He had to wake up Zayn every time anything happened in their lessons and Louis was sick of it. Zayn was always tired, and rarely did he ever have any way to help. “If you’re going to wake up anyone,” Louis started, because realistically he didn’t have to, “you should wake up Barbara” 

Barbara actually had skills of some use in the situation, unlike Zayn, whose only skill was talking Liam off of a ledge. Barbara had proved herself to be something of a jack-of-all-trades. She could fight, cook, heal, sail and seemingly do every single other odd job that needed to be done. And when she wasn’t pretending that she wasn’t hooking up with Niall behind crates in the middle of the night, she was actually quite helpful. 

“Alright” Liam said, grabbing Louis’ sleeve because of course he would. The last thing Liam would ever do was let anything be. His whole big brother persona wouldn’t allow him to. He was absolutely not going to keep showing Louis whatever manoeuvre he was doing before his sword came down a little too far forward in the dark, and he definitely wasn’t going to let Louis go back to bed before he was positive that he wouldn’t bleed out in his sleep. There was something comforting about it, but also annoying as hell. Louis guessed that what was having a big brother felt like all the time. 

They clambered down the stairs at an embarrassingly slow pace for the amount of sound they were making. Liam insisted on having his arm wrapped around Louis’ waist as if he might collapse. Louis took that opportunity to break it rather harshly to Liam that it was a surface wound and not a gunshot to the abdomen. That didn’t deter Liam at all. 

Liam was a good carpenter, and an even getting swordsman, but he didn’t know shit about injuries. “We need a real doctor on this ship” Liam said, exasperated. 

“Liam!” Louis exclaimed significantly louder than he’d anticipated, “It’s a surface wound! I don’t need a doctor!” 

“Still” Liam said, remaining calm despite Louis yelling at him, “if I’d cut your hand off, Barbara wouldn’t have been any good for it” 

Louis sighed, sick of Liam’s careful reasoning, “well it’s a good thing you didn’t.” He’d barely finished his sentence when he missed the last step on the way to the sleeping quarters and found himself on the floor. “Fuck!” 

He’d fallen on his hand, and probably gotten some wood caught in it if the new sting was anything to go by. 

A lantern flickered on from the middle of the cabin. “Fuck’s sake Louis” Zayn started, because of course he’d managed to wake up the one person he was avoiding. “Why are you bleeding?” he said as his brow furrowed, noticing the blood now flowing freely across the wooden planks of the cabin floor. 

“Liam just nicked me.” Louis sat up as he spoke. He pressed the heel of his hand to the cut. It wouldn’t stop bleeding, which was beginning to concern him a little bit. 

“Lou, you’re bleeding out” Zayn said in the sort of way that reminded him of his mother’s disappointment with him any time he gave a bad excuse. At this point Louis had already woken up most of the cabin, which was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. Damn Liam. 

“I’ll be fine, just need to wrap it and I’ll be back to bed in no time” Louis reasoned, getting up to find Barbara in the ever-growing crowd of people surrounding him. 

Luckily, among Barbara’s many skills was being prepared, and she approached him with a strip of material between both hands, ready to wrap his wound. She tied it tightly over the cut until it hurt more than it had when he was just bleeding. He shook his hand out again, trying to shake the pain out. 

Just as he finished shaking it, and wincing over it, there were footsteps on the stairs. Louis knew the night watchman by now, and also knew what his footsteps sounded like. They didn’t sound anything like what was coming commandingly down the stairs. There were only ever two people out of the sleeping quarters at night (other than Louis) and if it wasn’t the night watchmen- “hide me” Louis whispered desperately to Zayn, already backing his way to the back of the cabin. 

Harry would know he was out of bed. After all, he had woken up to an empty bed already. Louis had shimmied his way out of Harry’s viper grip as he slept and slipped out the door at just passed midnight. He was probably pissed, and then he was going to be pissed at Liam for cutting him, even if it was nothing, and he was going to be pissed at the entire crew for being so loud that they woke him up, which was only going to end up making everyone pissed at Louis. Basically, Louis was the cause of every issue and would receive the anger of everyone because of it. Louis was screwed. 

He tried to hide behind the back hammocks, but he knew it was futile. Harry would know he was there. Where else would he be? After all, they were on a fairly confined vessel. 

Harry walked into the cabin looking as if he’d just woken up. He had that mess of curls over his head that he always had in bed, and his shirt’s drawstring was undone so Louis could see just a little bit of the smooth chest he had found himself rather acquainted with over the last few months, and suddenly wanted to be even more acquainted. Although if Louis had any understanding of how Harry would react to being told that Louis had been receiving sword fighting lessons from Liam in the dead of night for the better part of three months without him knowing, that sort of thing was off the table. He’d probably be even more upset with the fact that Louis had been slipping out of his grasp every night only to return like nothing had happened a few hours later. 

Harry looked around the room bewildered. Probably partly from being woken up at such an ungodly hour.”Wha’s all the ruckus?” he said in his same slow voice, slurred by sleepiness. Louis just wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and walk him back to bed so that he could kiss him on the cheek and tuck him in. He looked so cute, so adorable, so tired, and so Louis’. 

“I- um” Liam started, trying to cover Louis’ tracks, “fell. Rather loudly.” God, Liam! Why did you have to be so good! “Just go back to bed, Haz, it’s fine” 

Louis knew it was coming, he knew he was about to say it, but all he wanted was for Harry to just forget about him, but if he knew anything about Harry…”has anyone seen Lou?”

Fuck. 

He had two options. Louis could either continue to hide behind the hammocks and hope that Harry would decide that he had fallen over board and died on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, or he could come out from his hiding place and do… _something_. 

“Hi Harry,” he said suddenly. He spoke quietly, so much so that he thought that perhaps Harry hadn’t noticed. 

Of course Harry had noticed. Harry noticed everything. He nearly ran to Louis, which made him feel even guiltier. Harry had been worried about Louis’ safety, and here he was sneaking out of his room every night. Louis was lying to him. _And for what?_

It had been a late night decision in the first place. Louis had decided that after the attack, he needed to be less useless. It came from a feeling of need. To be able to save Harry if it happened again. But he had known that Harry would want to teach him himself. He also knew that Harry would never come at him like a real crewmember. So, he’d asked Liam, because Liam would do it, even if he had to make sure that everything was in a safe and controlled environment. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, grabbing Louis newly wrapped hand. Of course he noticed. Harry noticed everything. 

“Yeah” Louis nodded one too many times for it to be believable, voice getting higher as he spoke to Harry. There was some deep-seated need to be soft with Harry. He just wanted to cuddle with him, and be cute, and warm, and gentle, and _everything_. “just nicked meself on the way to the toilet”

“You’re bleeding out, Lou” Harry said quietly to him, but all eyes were already on him. 

“That’s what I said!” Zayn exclaimed from further back than Louis had thought he’d been. He wanted nothing more than for everyone to leave, or go back to sleep. Mostly, he just wanted everyone to stop paying attention to him. 

Louis didn’t get a chance to respond before Harry had an arm around his waist and was escorting him out of the cabin. Of course he would. The last thing Harry ever wanted was for anyone to know that he was actually affectionate towards Louis. “We’re got to rewrap that before you have to lose that hand,” Harry whispered to him, with his mouth just millimetres away from his ear. Louis could feel him there, and all of a sudden, Louis hoped that Harry wasn’t _that_ angry. 

He got marched up the stairs dutifully and straight into the Captain’s quarters. They walked past the night watchman as he gave Louis a knowing smile, which made Louis slightly uncomfortable. As in, a little more than slightly. 

Harry sat him down on the bed and stood in front of him for a moment. He still had his hand on Louis wrist, looking at the same wrapping. Louis was starting to bleed through it, as little drops of red started to show through the cream cloth. 

Harry left him there for a moment as he went to rip a piece off of an old shirt he had –although Louis had sneaking suspicion that it was actually the shirt that he had arrived in. 

As he unwrapped the wound, Louis could feel him tense. “Lou” he said quietly as he looked at the wound again. “That’s not a nick, is it?” he said as if it were a question. He was trying to give Louis an out –Louis could tell. An out to tell him that he hadn’t been lying to him. And that he hadn’t been handling a sword without his knowledge. Although, truly Harry had no right to know in the first place, it wasn’t as if he owned Louis. Louis didn’t have to tell him anything. But he felt like he did. 

He had to tell him the truth, though. He had to. The lie had to end. “It’s not.” Louis shook his head as he did. 

“Who cut you?” Harry said. He was starting to get angry and Louis felt awful. It was his fault he got cut. “What bastard did this?” Harry asked, tightening his hand around Louis’ wrist with intensity. 

“It was my fault” 

“Bullshit” 

“No, really” Louis insisted, putting a hand on both of Harry’s shoulders to calm him. Very quickly he remembered that he was actually still bleeding out of his hand, and now bleeding onto Harry. “I was um…” he wasn’t even sure how to word it. _I’ve been sneaking around behind your back with Liam_. No, that sounded a lot worse than it was. _I don’t trust you to teach me to fight properly so I got your friend to do it_. Probably not. “Liam’s been teaching me to fight” 

“When?” Harry said, perplexed. He was with Louis every second of the day. He basically forced Louis to stay with him. And at night- 

“After you go to sleep” 

Harry dropped Louis’ hands from his. He was mad. “What?” he said as if he didn’t want to believe what he had been told. Louis knew he’d done the wrong thing. Of course he did. Louis always did the wrong thing. He was a professional fuck up. First he was a carrier, second he couldn’t’ say no to what he’d realized was sexual assault any way he put it, third he had just screwed up the only chance at love he’d ever found. Of course he did. 

“It was just that-“ 

“Why didn’t you bother to tell me, Louis?” he was upsetting Louis now. He wasn’t even getting properly angry, which was all Louis wanted from him. He wanted Harry to yell at him. Scream at him even. Louis was a fuck up and he ruined everything and he just wanted Harry to tell him that. Like he deserved to be told. He deserved to be sent away from the captain’s quarters and left at the next port for dead. He wasn’t worth Harry’s time anymore. 

“I…um-I,” Louis stuttered, “I don’t know,” he lamented. Because he truly didn’t know why he’d done it. There was some sort of distrust between them, that Louis had only made worse by doing this. Maybe that was what Louis had acted on in the first place. He didn’t trust Harry to teach him like a true crewmember because of where he stood in relation to Harry. He didn’t trust Harry to not get involved with it. 

“You could have just told me,” he said quietly. Harry was obviously hurt by it all. Louis’ own heart ached for him. He didn’t want Harry to be sad. He thought he loved Harry. How could he hurt someone he cared so deeply for? How could he do that to him? 

“I’m sorry” Louis said, quietly too. Harry didn’t look at him. He just looked at the cut that caused it all, and wrapped it back up. There was something metaphorical in that. He was wrapping the whole issue up again, and he was just going to care the issue out of their relationship. Just like every time. They’d glossed over the time that Harry shoved him against that stack of crates on Tortuga’s docks. They glossed over the fact that Harry still wouldn’t even tell Niall that he’s been sleeping with Louis for over two months. And the fact that Harry had never actually asked Louis how he felt about being pregnant or having a baby, he’d just decided for Louis. 

“It’s fine Lou.” There it was. There was the gloss in all its glory. 

“It isn’t” Louis reasoned. He could hear the frustration seeping into his voice. He just wanted to yell at Harry. Or rather, have Harry yell at him. He wanted to have a fucking argument! He wanted Harry to be angry with him. 

“Lou, I get it,” he said in this sort of way that made it feel like he was less like a boyfriend and more a parent. He was the glossiest, gloss gloss ever to exist. _God!_

“Stop!” Louis burst. He was done. Harry needed to be mad! For once! Louis was sick of him doing this. He was upset at himself for hurting Harry only a moment ago, and now he was just mad at Harry. “It’s not fine! I kept shit from you! I’ve been lying to you! Why aren’t you mad at me? Why aren’t you kicking me out? Why aren’t you making me walk the plank, or setting me in front of a firing squad?” 

Harry was still annoyingly calm, “is that why you did it?” Harry asked again, frustratingly calmly, “Was it to frustrate me? Because if it was, you can always just talk to me, you know that, right?” He moved to kneel in front of Louis, and look him in the eye. It still reminded him of Harry being his parent. 

“I can’t, though. Can I?” Louis couldn’t. Harry would just wrap up the wound again, and then they’d quite literally kiss and make up. “We’ve never had a real conversation” Harry looked perplexed. “You know what you never asked me, despite the fact that we’ve been having sex for nearly three months? You’ve never asked if I’m okay with you coming inside me! That’s literally step number one of sex! The first thing you ask someone is ‘what’s your stance on me ejaculating inside of your body?’” 

“Louis” Harry said, looking him straight in the eyes in the sort of way that made Louis feel frustratingly safe. _Why did he have to be so damn kind!_ “You’re seventeen. I just assumed that…” 

Of course he was citing Louis’ age as a realistic reason for him choosing not to ask Louis about how he felt about anything. It was on the tip of Louis’ tongue, and he’d intended to keep it there until it just- “well you assumed wrong”.

Harry’s face broke, and suddenly Louis felt like he’d done something wrong. There was this awful look on his face, and Louis could almost feel Harry’s heart ache. Harry’s hands dropped to Louis’ knees, and he couldn’t look him in the eyes for a moment. Louis had just broken something. Something delicate. And now it was gone. “Louis” Harry said, still not meeting Louis’ gaze. 

Louis didn’t want to do it anymore. He had ruined this forever, and he didn’t want to be there to see it crash and burn. He wanted his tears to fall when he was far away from Harry, and far away from everyone. He couldn’t be here anymore. “I’m going to just-,” he said, not bothering to finish his sentence. His voice was starting to crack. He couldn’t do this anymore. 

Louis made a move to get up, but just as he pushed off of the bed, Harry grabbed his wrist again. As he looked back at Harry, he could only see his own sad expression reflected back at him. Harry’s hair was a mess and he looked more tired than he had not ten minutes ago when he had actually just woken up. “Louis” he said again, begging more now. Louis pulled his hand from Harry’s grasp, and much to Louis’ sadness, but not surprise, Harry let him go. 

When he closed the door behind him, Louis dropped to the ground with his hands over his face. Why did he fuck everything up? Why did he have to destroy everything he had? He’d ruined his relationship with his father by being gay. He’d ruined his relationship with his siblings by running away. Now, he’d ruined his relationship with Harry, the only person who had ever cared enough about him. Louis couldn’t stop remembering his own fuck ups. 

He sat there for an unknown amount of time, but it felt like too long. Louis needed to get up. But the tears were welling in his eyes and they wouldn’t leave. They gathered more and more until everything was blurry and Louis couldn’t get up. His tears just wouldn’t fall. 

All of a sudden, Louis felt a warm hand on his shoulder. For a second he feared that Harry had come back to him, and that he’d seen the tears that covered his eyes, but as he looked up, he saw the mossy ginger curls of the night watchman. His bony hand sat on his shoulder reassuringly. Louis gave him a defeated smile, as he stared up at nearly two metres of unknown man. Louis knew nothing about him, other than that he steered the ship in the dead of the night, and was probably the only member of the crew –other than Zayn and Liam- that had any idea of the sort of relationship he and Harry had, or used to have. He was wiry, and a little bit cold on Louis’ shoulder, but he was reassuring. If Louis could get up, he would have thrown both arms around him faster than horse could leap. 

When he spoke, Louis was taken aback by the accent, and he realized that he’d never actually heard him speak. The night watchman was something of a ghost. He was at the helm when Louis went to bed, always looking straight at the horizon, and still there, in the same place, when he awoke every morning. He spoke the way that something that was not quite American, but not quite Scottish would. It was a confusing accent that Louis didn’t have the energy to inquire into. “Let’s get you to bed, eh?” he asked. If Louis had had any energy left in his body, he would have asked about who would steer the ship in his absence, but instead he wiped he tears on his shirt sleeve and let the ghost of a man pull him to his feet. Louis nearly fell into him as his weight settled onto his feet. “C’mon” the man whispered again. 

Louis didn’t really want to go back to the sleeping quarters. He didn’t want to have Zayn be disappointed in him. Or pity him. He just wanted to cover his face with the silk covered pillows on Harry’s bed –because, despite the fact that Louis slept there, it was Harry’s property- and cry it out. 

This man must have known that, because he ushered Louis right past Zayn and Liam’s bunk, and straight to the back of the cabin without so much as looking at anyone who might have been awake. He tucked Louis into a bunk that seemed well used, and well loved. Later, Louis realized that he must have given Louis his own bed to recuperate in. 

And then he disappeared. 

***

Louis awoke the next morning to a very gentle shake. He could tell it was Zayn before he even opened his eyes. There was only one person who’s touch was so soft, not even Harry. “Lou?” he asked in a whisper, as if he might disturb the one thread still holding Louis together. Louis turned away from him, shaking his hammock roughly as he did. He wanted to be alone for the next eight years, or perhaps the rest of his life, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk it out with Zayn. “Haz is asking after you. I didn’t know if you wanted to see him,” he kept whispering. 

Louis wanted to die of starvation from never leaving the hammock more than to talk to Harry, ever again. Louis didn’t trust his voice to come out properly, so he just shook his head. “Okay” Zayn nodded, not that Louis could see it, but he could feel it in his voice. He was being so soft with Louis, in the sort of way that meant he knew something had gone horribly wrong the night before. Harry had probably told him all about the stupid, _stupid_ thing that he’d done. They’d probably all heard about what Louis had ruined. How he ruined _everything_. 

“I’m going to leave you now, okay?” Zayn asked, still with is soothing voice. Like calming a child down from a nightmare. Louis nodded again. “If you want to talk, I’ll be in the canon bay. You won’t even have to go above deck.” Louis nodded again. What he wanted was to throw himself off of the side of the ship, but maybe talking with Zayn would do the same job. Once his legs worked. 

Once he’s left alone, he dared to turn around again, to see that the cabin had emptied out. There was not a single soul in the cabin with him, which meant it was much later than Louis had anticipated it being. He felt kind of useless just lying there, contributing nothing to the crew, but it wasn’t as if that was anything new. Louis never contributed. He was, by any measure, a free loader. 

It was only a few more moments before the night watchman appeared by the entrance of the cabin, and Louis moved to get up, “sorry, this is your bed isn’t it.” he didn’t ask it as a question because he knew it was. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry” the watchman said offhandedly, waving Louis back down. 

“I wanted to thank you,” Louis said wholeheartedly, “I’d probably be on the floor still if it hadn’t been for you.” Because it was true. He probably would have sat there all night until Harry exited his room – _his room_ \- and found him on the deck with tears still staining his cheeks. 

“I’s fine. Don’t worry abo’t it,” He said as he looked down at the floor, his scrubber brush of flaming orange hair falling over his face. He was tall and gangly, like he’d been stretched up, but they hadn’t had enough time to bring him out too. 

“What’s your name?” Louis asked, when he realized that he still didn’t know anything about this man. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, and Louis thought it was so odd. What sort of a person doesn’t think their name was important enough to provide? What did he even mean by that? Why wouldn’t it matter? And then Louis realized, that no one had ever mentioned his name before. _No one knew it_. He hadn’t told anyone. Louis briefly tried to imagine not having anyone know his own name, and he could barely fathom it. Louis was so characteristic of him. He was Louis. How did this man live? 

“You’re something of a ghost, aren’t you?” Louis said, smiling just slightly. Cheekily. He was a ghost. He came alive at night, and slept during the day. He passed through the ship unnoticed and unnamed. 

“I promise ’m real, if that’s what you’re sayin’” He said in that same foreign accent. 

The accent was starting to bother Louis, because he couldn’t pinpoint it. He knew what French sounded like, or Spanish, or Dutch, or American, or Irish, or Caribbean, but he had no clue where this man was from. ‘At least tell me where you’re from,” he wagered, “the accent is killing me.” 

The man just laughed, and looked back up at Louis. It was the first time he saw the piercing blue of his eyes. Like broken ice. “Up North. Newfoundland.” He said, and that was it. He took someone’s hammock at the other end of the cabin from Louis and took some much needed sleep. Louis couldn’t imagine staying up every single night of his life: all alone. He could barely sleep alone anymore. He’d have to get used to it though. He and Harry – although unofficially- were over. 

_Why did Louis fuck this up?_

*** 

Liam came to see him later that day. Louis had been sleeping on and off for hours, unable to find a comfortable position that felt even a little bit like Harry wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and pulling his back towards his chest. He wanted the warmth of a body against him, and all he was getting was the feeling of rocking with the ship as it sailed through choppy waters. 

Liam arrived with little ceremony, and little to say. He approached Louis quietly, and looked him in the eye before opening with the last thing Louis had expected him to say, “Harry thinks you’re leaving” 

Louis, who had just barely woken up from an excessively restless bout of sleep, was confused, “what?” 

Liam sighed, as if expecting that Louis wouldn’t understand what he was saying either. ‘He thinks you want to leave the crew, so he’s changing our path to Tortuga” 

_Right across a channel from Hispaniola,_ was what went unspoken there. Harry was basically dropping him off at home after his brief foray in pirate-dom. Like a child who pretended to run away from home. 

But Louis almost wanted it. He kind of wanted to go home, and cry with Lottie over his lost love because he was too damn stupid. He kind of wanted to sit in the garden again and feel the morning dew wet against his lips instead of the sting of salt water off the ocean. He wanted to cuddle the little ones again, and read them storybooks, and cook with his mum. 

But that wasn’t home anymore. He wouldn’t be returning to the life he had loved so much. He’d be returning to the family that had sent him off to be the slave of someone he’d never met. That wasn’t home. Home was here. Home was with Zayn in the canon bay, and with Liam on the deck in the dead of night, and with Harry in bed, with his breaths hot against Louis’ skin as he slept. “I can’t go home,” he said, pleading with his eyes, to Liam. 

“You don’t have to go home,” Liam told him calmly, “you can always just stay on Tortuga. I mean -being in Harry’s crew will give you all the credibility you need” 

“And what?” Louis asked, getting angry. He knew he shouldn’t say it, but Louis’ mouth seemed to be bursting of its own accord all the time these days, “and end up like Zayn?” 

Liam took a step back. He’d obviously angered him. “You don’t mean that Louis,” he insisted. Liam shook his head over and over again, as if to convince himself that Louis hadn’t just said that. _God, could Louis fuck anything else up?_

Louis knew – _he knew_ \- that it bothered Liam that he’d technically bought Zayn. He knew it was shameful for him, and that he always felt like he’d been forcing Zayn into everything they do because of the money. That was why he still had a pair of rings in his chest, buried at the bottom, and he’d yet to bring them up to Zayn. It was particular sore spot for him, and there Louis had gone, bringing it up. No wonder Harry wanted to send him home. “I didn’t mean it, Li” Louis said, pleading with him. He couldn’t have Liam leaving him too, “please” 

Liam just shook his head and sighed before slamming his eyes closed and keeping them clamped shut to keep the tears from spilling out. “It’s-“ he started, and stopped, “it’s fine Louis. Just, -uh- think about it” 

And then Louis realized. Liam wanted him to leave. He’d caused enough drama on the ship, and he’d probably gotten Liam into trouble for the lessons in the first place. Liam didn’t want him around, with his loud mouth, and his plethora of issues and his crying. Who would? “I think I’ll at least leave the crew” he said quietly, “I don’t belong here” 

And what Louis wanted was for Liam to prove him wrong. He wanted Liam to tell him to stay, and that he was useful, and needed, and appreciated. But Louis had caused too much damage for that. He’d pushed Liam one notch too far and now he’d lost him forever. He’d lost the only big brother he’d ever had. The only parental figure he had in his life. He had nothing left of Liam in his life. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t deserve any of Liam in his life. He’d been nothing but good to Louis, and all he’d given him in return was abuse, and trouble or rudeness. No wonder Liam wanted him gone. He didn’t deserve any of Liam. 

Liam just nodded at his statement. He’d gotten what he wanted. He’d gotten Louis to leave. As soon as they hit Tortuga he’d be gone –and judging by the maps Louis had been following for Harry’s journal, they’d be there within a day. 

So that was it. He was done with being a pirate. He’d return to his British noble life with nothing to remember it by but a couple of tattoos on his arm and a sword slash across the fleshy bit of his hand. 

Louis had all these memories of feeling like a member of the crew, but in all truth, he never had been. 

The night when he got his first tattoo from Ed, when that kind man had poured liquor down his throat like it was water, and told him his back story. When they’d all shared their secrets with him, while they’d all got drunk as all hell and laughed until it hurt. When Louis hadn’t gotten a proper look at the tattoo for two full days because he’d been so plastered when it was finished that it was proper blurry, and because the hangover afterwards had been so killer that he’d barely been able to look at anything without his eyes feeling like they might fall out of the sockets. 

The Christmas dinner under palm trees with that freaking chicken that Harry had been raving over for weeks. When they’d sang along to drinking songs that most of them didn’t know, some of which were actually in French, so they all sang complete gibberish for minutes on end even if they pretended that they all actually knew the words. That night he and Zayn had sat with their feet in the water on the beach, on their backs, talking about anything and everything they could think of. He’d learned all about Zayn’s fantastical childhood, which sounded like some wild storybook. Sailing around the world on a pirate ship, learning the ins and outs of piracy, mastering the art of running a canon bay by 12. Running one of his father’s fleet as a captain for 4 months after the captain had been killed when he was 14. Zayn’s childhood had sounded like the sort of thing Louis would dream of as a child. While Louis was sitting in a parlour with a group of Naval wives, Zayn was having adventures on the seven seas. He was fighting enemy pirates, and dancing in pubs with his sisters. Louis longed to have a life like that. 

And pitifully, for a moment Louis had imagined that his kids might have that life. He’d imagined walking into pubs with Harry and a little curly haired boy, and dancing the night away, before going back to the ship to snuggle with both of them. _What an idiot._

Louis didn’t belong there, and his kids wouldn’t either. His son wasn’t even going to be his own. He’d be the son of some British noble and his wife, and Louis would be watching from a distance, watching him grow up as someone else’s. That was his future. He didn’t belong in pirate pubs. He belonged in the very back of social events, with a little glass of fancy white wine and no one bothering to talk to him. 

*** 

Louis cried it all out for an hour of so. He cried out his sorrow after losing Harry, he cried out his anger at Liam for sending him away, he cried out his anger at himself for forcing everyone away, and he cried out the pre-emptive lose of his child to someone else. 

He cried until Ed showed up. He appeared, as he always seemed to, with a needle and a pot of ink that Louis didn’t feel entirely safe putting into his skin, but either way, he just sat down on the floor of the cabin with him and thrust his arm out. 

Louis didn’t even bother to look at what Ed was doing, because honestly, he didn’t give a shit. He couldn’t care less if Ed tattooed an anatomical penis on his wrist. He just craved the pain. He just wanted to drown every other feeling he had in the familiar sting of tattooing. He needed something permanent before he left. He needed to remind himself that this wasn’t all some fever dream, brought on by seasickness on the boat back to England. 

“Heard you’re leaving” Ed said, with his eyes kept fixed on the tattoo he was doing. Louis stayed silent for a moment, until Ed stabbed the answer out of him one too many times. 

“I’m not welcome here,” Louis said solemnly, still not bearing to look at the tattoo, or Ed. “I’ve done enough”

“Where’ll you go?” Ed asked. He wasn’t mad, or upset at Louis but genuinely interested in what he had to say. He may have been the only person on the ship who wasn’t pissed off at him. 

“Home, I think” Louis said, “I miss my sisters” 

“You still think you’ll be sent off to be married?” Ed asked out of the blue. 

Louis had never told him that. Louis had never told anyone that. Except maybe Zayn. But Zayn wouldn’t have told anyone about that. Would he? “How did you know about that?” Louis asked rather defensively. 

“You told us all when we were drunk once. Don’t remember when,” Ed shrugged, stabbing him again awfully hard. 

“How many people know?” Louis asked suddenly. That hadn’t meant to get around to anyone. That was his _secret_. That was the one thing that he was meant to keep under wraps. That was the one thing he was meant to keep as a secret. Fuck. 

“Everyone, I think,” Ed said as if it wasn’t an issue. 

“Even Harry?” 

“I’d assume so, why?” Ed asked. He didn’t seem to get Louis’ sudden anxiety. How could he think that being put into an arranged “marriage” was something that people were meant to tell each other? That was secret thing. That was a person and their one friend sort of secret, not whole crew secret. 

“Fuck” Louis said out loud, although he’d intended for it to stay internal. He tried to pull his hand away from Ed, because he needed to talk to Harry. Tattoo be damned. 

“Whoa, slow down, kid!” Ed pulled Louis’ hand back into his lap. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve been sleeping with Harry” Louis said all of a sudden. He wasn’t even sure where to start when explaining why he had to talk to him. “I’ve been sleeping with him, and we had this huge blow up over a baby, and now he thinks that I want to go because I want to be married so I can have said baby. Except, I don’t want to have a baby with anyone else. I only want to have a baby with Harry. And definitely not with some arranged marriage douchebag” 

“So you aren’t going?” Ed asked, keeping Louis’ hand firmly in his grasp. He was not letting Louis leave with an unfinished tattoo. 

“Liam wants me to” Louis lamented. 

“Fuck Liam,” Ed laughed as he stabbed some more. Louis had never heard anyone say that about Liam. He was so well liked by everyone else on the ship. “He’s uptight and impulsive. Do you know how much he spent on brothels just to see Zayn? Like just to talk to him? An offensive amount. He does whatever shit he wants and he doesn’t want what he doesn’t want in the moment. You’ve got to remember he’s young. He’s only 22” 

“I’m 17” Louis stated, because to him, Liam was quite a bit older than him. And maybe to Ed, who was surely nearing thirty, he was a child, but so was Louis. 

“Never said you were any older, kid,” Ed laughed, “don’t get ahead of yourself.” He flipped Louis’ wrist over to started to stab at the soft skin of his inner wrist, where he was especially sensitive. He hissed at the change in pain. “Oi!” Ed laughed at him with his clenched teeth, “Suck it up, boy” 

Louis kept himself tensed. The pain was somewhat foreign, as every time he’d gotten to the bad part before he’d been drunk off his ass. Ed stabbed him once extra hard, just to drive home his point, but instead of it working out the way he intended it, Louis pulled his arm away from him. He wasn’t going to let Ed abuse him any more. 

“Fuckin’ hell, man!” he exclaimed, cradling his abused hand with his other, actually injured hand. He could see little beads of blood coming up to the surface. Luckily, he had pulled his hand away when Ed had had the needle out of his skin, or it would have ended rather unfortunately. 

“For god’s sakes, do you have to be plastered to get tattooed?” Ed exasperated. Had Louis just ruined another relationship? He was like King Midas, wasn’t he? Everything he touched had always turned to gold, and now he was turning people to that same golden metal. Cold, and unwelcoming to him. That’s what you get for being a rich boy playing at pirate. 

Just as Louis spiralled further into his self-abusive world, Ed shook his head with a smile and started to shimmy something out of he back pocket. Out of it, he produced a little glass bottle of some clear that Louis hoped to God was something alcoholic. 

When he took his first full sip of the pure, stinging liquid, Louis audibly sighed. Ed just laughed, “I’ll be finished in a few minutes, I’s just a li’le one” 

Louis nodded, still not bothering to look at what was happening to his skin below. “I need to talk to Captain Styles” Louis said absently. 

‘Oi,” Ed said slightly more jovially than Louis had expected, “he’s Captain Styles to you now, is he, Mr. I’ve-Been-Sleeping- with-Harry?” 

“We aren’t together anymore.” Not that they ever were in the first place. He and Harry were in some weird middle ground where they weren’t an item, and Harry wasn’t his boyfriend, but he bought Louis gifts, and spent his birthday with him, and had sex with him, and yet, he wasn’t anything real to him. Louis was a kid, who didn’t have real goals or thoughts. He didn’t deserve consequences or tough conversations. 

“You had an argument, so what?’ Ed wiped the blood away from his wrist. Louis could only tell from the cold feeling of his own blood seeping out into the air. 

Louis didn’t understand why Ed didn’t understand the gravity of the whole situation. He was about to have to give up this whole life because his damn mouth couldn’t keep shut. “It was a big argument,” Louis told him with a little more severity than he had intended, “it’s ruined everything. And I just want him to know where I’m going once I leave.” 

“Wha’s it matter?” Ed asked with his head still down, deep in his head. 

“Because.” Louis was trying to stay calm now. Ed seemed invincible to anything Louis said to him, but he couldn’t risk him too. “If he thinks that I’m going to London, it means that I’m going to have a baby. And if he thinks that, it means that I was only with him for the sole purpose of having a baby. Which wasn’t my purpose, but it looks an awful lot like it” 

“Well…” Ed said with a happy smile on his face, taking more than a moment to pause before continuing. He stuck the needle into Louis’ skin a few more times, and wiped away the little beads of blood over the black ink one last time. “You can go see him now, if you like.” 

Then, Louis looked at his new, permanent memory. And there, wrapping around his thin wrist, delicately and detailed, was a little rope. In the front it was a loosened figure eight knot, but on the back it was undone and fraying. There was something reflective about that. He was so close. He and Harry were each sides of that rope, they were just second away from being pulled tight into a knot, and yet now they were fraying at the edges. 

But. 

The rope wasn’t fully frayed yet. It wasn’t over ‘til it was over. So with that, Louis got up, and marched up the stairs in a beeline towards the captain’s quarters. Louis could feel the eyes of everyone on him as he came above deck. Maybe he was just imagining it all, but he swore he could hear all the sound of the deck stop, and trickle out into the sea. 

Just as he was about to push through the door, with his hand pressed onto the unfinished wood of it, he looked up above him to the helm. And there, standing against a banister, looking right back down at him was the night watchman, with his same mess of curls over his eyes and his crooked teeth, and his little smile, and that same, strange, ghostly look. 

Louis smiled back, and there was something vaguely ghostly in his own. It felt like Louis’ smile was moving of its own accord, because the Louis unattached from it wanted to be doing anything but smiling. Anything. 

Harry was sitting on his bed, with a rose between his fingers, spinning it around as he looked into the petals until his eyes crossed. He sat in the sort of way that made clear that he was upset about something; from the way he had folded in on his shoulders. He was wearing a pair of brown cloth pants: a far cry from his leather and golden ribbons. His shirt was plain cotton too, with threads of brown twine running though it. It was obviously handmade, and old, from the way it was thinning in places of wear. His hair was heavy with grease and hung over his eyes in strings that blocked out the vibrant green of them from Louis. 

He’d surely heard the door open and close, but he’d chosen to keep his eyes down. Louis just wanted him to look at him. He wanted to feel what Harry was thinking. He wanted to see it in his eyes. He just wanted something from him! 

“Hey” Louis whispered. He was stuck somewhere between wanting Harry to actually miss his introduction, or finally say something back. 

Harry didn’t look at him for another minute. Louis could tell he’d heard him though, because the rose between his fingers had stopped spinning. He waited for so long that Louis feared that he might never actually open his mouth until he sighed deeply, “Liam says you’re leaving.” He spoke in the hauntingly monotonous voice. It reminded Louis of when he’d first met Harry. When Harry had been a monster, with this alien ability to turn himself off: to turn himself into a skeleton of a man when he needed to become The Captain. Harry had presented himself to everyone as The Captain, but he’d been _just Harry_ for so long that Louis had nearly forgotten those weeks when Harry was a foreign entity, who hadn’t showed any human quality. When he hadn’t been soft or innocent or gentle. When he hadn’t cuddled up to Louis every night with whispered promises and kisses on shoulder blades. There was a time when that had all been true, and it seemed that Louis had just returned to that. 

“Liam wants me to,” Louis said, which was probably the wrong answer. Harry probably wanted him to say that he deserved it. That he wasn’t a pirate, and didn’t belong on a pirate’s ship. Harry probably wanted to hear Louis say, “I’ve done enough damage” 

Louis didn’t realize that his mouth had opened until the words had fallen to the floor between them, with weight and the sound of a loud _thump_. There it was. Visibly, physically between them. Even if it was all in Louis’ imagination, he felt that, at least on some level, Harry could see it too. 

He wasn’t sure what he excepted Harry to say to him, but it wasn’t “I’m not asking you to leave, Lou.” _Lou_. It felt important that he’d chosen to use his nickname. Pet name. Term of endearment? Louis was so caught up in all of it that he nearly missed what Harry had said to him, but it was luck that he caught it, because the wording was deliberate. Contractually, if Harry had asked him to leave, he would have had to, but Harry wasn’t asking. That didn’t, of course, mean that Harry didn’t want him to leave. 

“Do you want me to?” Louis asked finally. Because Harry deserved the opportunity to tell him before he went. Harry had been so soft through it all, but he had to be upset. After all, he thought that Louis was only leaving because he was so desperate to have a baby that it didn’t matter who it was with. 

Louis could see Harry’s head jerk, but he wasn’t sure which way it went in that single moment. He never learned the answer either, because Harry stopped his head in its tracks and looked at Louis for the first time since he’d entered the room, “do _you_ want to?” 

It took Louis a second to think of what his answer was. He didn’t know if he could deal with everything he had caused on _The Rose_ , but he also didn’t want to leave it all behind. In the three months since he’d boarded the ship, he’d gone from fearing the day that he thought of the ship as his home, to wanting to raise a family on it. 

Louis shook his head solemnly. 

He wanted nothing less. _The Rose_ was the only place where he’d ever been _just Louis_. His whole life he’d been something else. He’d been the carrier, then Troy Austin’s Son, The Pretty One, then he’d been the sibling who couldn’t be part of the family anymore. If he returned home, he’d be _The Traitor_ and some man’s “husband” for one night a week. That wasn’t Louis. Louis lived and breathed _The Rose_. Louis was a pirate, who liked boys, and liked sex, and liked drinking and dancing. Louis couldn’t sleep without the warmth of a boy he adored. Louis wanted nothing more than to keep himself on the ship, with Zayn and Liam and Niall and Gemma and Barbara and Ed and the night watchman, and most importantly, _Harry_. 

“You don’t have to” Harry said in a way that made it seem less like he was doing Louis a favour, and more like he was begging Louis to stay, “if you want to go, you’re more than welcome” he sighed, bracing himself for what he had to say next, “if you want that future in London with some noble and a -a baby- and riches and-“ Harry cut himself off. Louis didn’t miss the way he had struggled over the word _baby_. 

“I don’t want a noble,” Louis said, because it was the only thing he was sure of. He also didn’t want a future in London, or riches, or just any baby. 

Harry looked up at him suddenly, with a look on his face. “You don’t?” he asked, perplexed. 

“No, Harry” Louis paused, “I never wanted a noble, or riches, or London.” he wanted Harry. That’s what Louis wanted; he just couldn’t get it to the surface of his speech. 

“Gemma said that you loved London” Harry said innocently. Louis did love London. From the fantastical, enriched memories of his childhood mind. The London that Louis knew was beautiful, and painted in a perfect layer of snow on Christmas morning. There are still torches out because the sun hasn’t risen yet, and there is not a soul on the streets but his grandparents and his mother. His mum looks like an angel in a cream dress, with her hair done up, and the lines on her face are shallow, but they bare the marks of a woman who smiled so much, but also those of a woman who felt great hardship. Looking back Louis could remember the way she looked so free in those Christmases, when Louis’ father was still home, or off far away in the mystical land he called the Caribbean, where apparently the ocean was a clear blue and the trees were always a lush green that Louis couldn’t even imagine. London was a distant memory of Louis’ young and unreliable mind, which lacked any sort of real joy. London was superficial joy. Where Louis got treats, and presents. But The Rose was full of real joy. His friends, his crew members. Louis was Louis and there was nothing fake or special. Louis hadn’t created it all in his mind. It was inked on his skin forever. _The Rose_ would be forever.

“London is a memory. Not a real place.” Louis said, starkly. 

“And the nobles? And the riches?” Harry pressed further. Louis could tell he was avoiding the real thing he wanted to ask. The real topic of the whole conversation. He was glossing. That was his speciality, wasn’t it? 

“I’ve lived my entire life with nobles, and not a single one was worth even a 100th of what anyone on this ship is worth to me. As for riches, I’ve made more money in these three months than I ever will” And Louis had let it slip. The one thing he hadn’t meant to let slip. _Louis Tomlinson_ was not a noble, but Louis Austin sure was. Louis Austin was not the Louis that Harry knew. 

“What?” Harry looked at him with his same confused look. Where his face balanced itself out by moving one eyebrow done and one side of his mouth up. Louis honestly wanted to talk about the baby rather than that. 

“I- um – I” 

“What do you mean you’ve spent your whole life with nobles?” Harry breathed out in this incredibly disbelieving way, “Louis…” 

“It’s just that-” 

“Louis” Harry said more forcefully, now. 

“My name isn’t Louis Tomlinson. Tomlinson was my tutor’s name” Louis started, and didn’t know if he should continue. He’d dug himself a hole so deep that he couldn’t get himself out of it. “I lied to you, again” that was all Louis could say. He couldn’t stop lying. All he did was lie. First with who he was, then with Liam and their lessons. 

Harry’s head fell into his hands to cover those green eyes again. “You aren’t royalty. Are you?” Harry said with him mouth fuzzy from his hands covering it. They fell from his chin into a silent prayer “Fuck.” 

Did Louis look like a prince? Because he definitely wasn’t. Louis was far from royalty. “I’m not royalty. Definitely not.” 

“Is your name at least Louis?” Harry asked with his hands still stuck in their prayer. He looked at Louis desperately, as if it was the only thing he was holding on to. As if the rope would unravel on the one thing. As if the final straw was that. 

Louis nodded, “it is. It’s Louis Austin.” 

Louis could tell that Harry recognized the name. The Austin name was easily recognizable among the seas. Especially the Caribbean. He was easily recognized from his most honourable efforts, like the capture and hanging of anyone related to pirate activity, and allowing his son to be whored out to his superiors. Really, he was an honest, honourable man, with nothing to hide. 

“As in…?“ Harry said. Something in his voice had changed. Louis couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something about his tone had changed. For a moment, Louis thought it might be anger. He had to hate Troy Austin, maybe even as much as Louis hated him. He probably hated Louis now by extension. He shared blood with that despicable man. He had part of him in him. Louis was, however little, at least part Troy Austin. He had prayed that he never became like his father, but some things just couldn’t be avoided, could they? If so much awfulness could exist in someone, it had to exist at least partly in Louis. 

Louis nodded. 

Without missing a beat, Harry jumped to his feet. Louis thought that he might hit him, or walk him out towards the plank, but instead of enacting any sort of violence on him, Harry pulled him straight into a hug. With his arms wrapped tight around Louis’ slender body and his lips just millimetres from the shell of Louis’ ear. “You can’t go back there, Lou” Harry whispered to him, “you can’t” 

Louis tried to slip out of the embrace, but Harry’s hands held fast against his back. Instead, he leaned back to look at Harry in the eyes, searching for something in them. They were stormy green, with his pupils blown, as he looked right back into Louis. Louis’ mouth hung for a second as he searched, unsure of what he could say. “But” he started with no clear direction of his speech, “I have to. Don’t I?” 

Louis kept his eyes locked into Harry’s. He knew what he was searching for then. He wanted an answer. He wanted Harry to _just tell him_. He wanted Harry to either go off on him, or kiss him. The hug was too vague. 

Louis got neither. Harry released him, but kept his hands on Louis’ forearms tightly. “Louis” he said forcefully, “he will kill you.” And it was probably true. Louis had tried to ignore it, but it was true. His father killed pirates. Louis was a pirate. Those two things ended with one person walking out alive, and it wasn’t the five foot nine seventeen year old. Louis couldn’t go back to him, but he could always just to live on Tortuga with-“just like-“ Harry finished. 

_He will kill you just like…_ “Who?” Who had his father hurt? Other than everyone. What had he done to Harry? Harry, who was tough on the outside, but only a boy on the inside. Harry, who like to cuddle. Harry, who had brought his own sister into his crew to keep her safe. Harry who had taken mercy on Louis the moment he had met him for absolutely no reason. What had Louis’ own name done to him? What had Louis’ own blood done to him? 

“Like my mum” Harry said solemnly, but also in a way that made it seem like he’d been itching to tell Louis that. _Like his mum_. Louis’ father had killed Harry’s own mother. Troy Austin –because he didn’t deserve to be called Louis’ father anymore- had killed Harry’s mother for no reason other than that her son had run away and become a better sailor than he could ever dream of. He had murdered her in cold blood for nothing but the fact that _he liked it_. Troy Austin liked to kill. Troy Austin liked to murder people who had had the hardest lives, where their children and brothers and sisters had run away in hopes of having better in a life of crime. What kind of person killed those who had nothing? Those who had no hope left in their own communities. His father didn’t deserve to be a man. His father was a monster. 

And there Harry was. Having lost his mother to the man who gave Louis life, trying to keep him safe. He should have shot Louis on the spot rather than show him any sort of mercy at all. Louis didn’t deserve it. Louis was an Austin. Austins were monsters. 

And then Louis remembered his sisters and the way they didn’t look anything like his dad. The way that they all had different noses, and different smiles, and his mum’s eyes. The way that Louis had always wished they had been part of the family for their own safety. But they were the lucky ones. They were free of the guilt of their father’s actions. They had no part of him in them. They had nothing tying them to him. 

“Harry…” Louis started, but he didn’t know what to say. What did he say after an admission like that? 

He didn’t have to continue, because Harry did the last thing he expected after it all. He kissed Louis. Gently at first, with his lips soft and plump on Louis’, but slowly his hands came to tug on Louis’ hair. His fingers dug into Louis’ scalp and massaged in time with his kisses. 

Louis wanted to talk to him. He wanted to comfort him, or apologize, but if that was what Harry needed in that moment, Louis wasn’t going to stand in his way. After all, he’d caused enough damage. 

Harry’s hands swept their way to his cheeks, and kissed him more deeply. There was little organization to it, and every so often Harry teeth would clack against Louis’, and he would have to move back for a moment to keep from laughing. Eventually, he put more pressure on Louis’ cheeks, pulling him forwards as Harry stepped back. Louis stumbled towards him, with eyes still closed and hands still by his side as he let himself be pulled to Harry. Louis could feel Harry’s warmth on his cheeks, and his mouth, and his stomach, and chest, where he was pressed to him. But Louis wanted _more_. He wanted to feel Harry everywhere, like he always did. Like it was when they were together, naked and contented in the middle of the night, or in the afternoon when Louis was meant to be writing Harry’s diary, but they’d both gotten distracted and ended up cuddling, fully clothed, for hours on end until Zayn or Liam would come knocking quietly and nervously. 

They fell onto the bed blindly, and off centre. Harry had been moving from muscle memory, with no eyes to navigate, and Louis was too concerned with _Harry_ , to have thought about anything pertaining to the fact that at one point they would have to reach the bed. Louis fell straight onto Harry, with his chest pressed hard to his. Louis could feel his cock hard in his cotton pants. Subtly as possible, Louis slid his legs on either side of Harry’s hips to straddle him while still sealed to his mouth. Harry’s hands crept their way down to his arse, and grabbed a handful of it to pull Louis further up to him. Louis’ hands squished Harry’s cheeks into his face, in a futile effort to get more of Harry’s mouth into him. 

Harry’s hands slipped under his shirt from the back, and it didn’t feel like a movement of lust, but rather one of comfort. He rubbed Louis’ back gently, with the tips of his fingers, so it tickled a little bit each time he went up. Louis went to each side of Harry’s waist with his own fingers. Hiking up the sides to reveal the soft skin of his toned, tattooed stomach to Louis’ covered one. Harry’s skin should have felt like fire, like it always did when they were going to have sex, but instead it felt confusingly like a bonfire. Like warmth, and comfort and happiness. There wasn’t lust between them, but maybe- something else. Yeah, something else. Something that Louis wouldn’t name.

Louis opened his eyes when he leaned up to pull his own shirt over his head, and he was surprised to see what was all around him. There was something tinged orange all around the room, as the sun sunk into the sea, painting everything something warm and glowing. Louis could nearly see fireflies floating around him, twinkling over the perfection of everything. Beside him was a rose that Harry had discarded when he’d gone to hug Louis. It was darker now that it wasn’t catching the light of late afternoon. It wasn’t the sort of vibrant red that Louis had assumed it was, but rather blood. Blood spilt all across the petals until it coated every single petal, and vein in a sheet of a perfect red. The richest color Louis had ever seen. Ripe with emotion and meaning, whatever it was. Whatever the rose meant to Harry, it was the perfect rose, because Harry had cared well for it, Louis could tell. There were outer petals missing, where they had started to wilt, and the stem was green as anything, full of water, and whatever magic Harry used. 

When Louis went back to kiss Harry again, this time desperate to press his skin to Harry’s more, he found himself stopped by Harry’s hands on his chest. Louis searched through his eyes again, and Harry searched his right back. “Is this okay?” Harry asked him as if he expected Louis to say no. 

“Yeah,” Louis said, because of course it was. If that was what Harry needed, it was what Louis would give to him. “Of course it is.” 

Louis could feel the relief washing through Harry’s body as he got the confirmation. It was still like that. Even after months of being together, Harry still thought that he was forcing Louis. 

Eventually Harry nodded to himself, and pulled Louis back in by the back of his neck. He was starting to shimmy up higher on the bed, dragging Louis with him by a hand on his arse. “Fuck, okay, okay,” he said quietly, to himself. He always did that too. He had to talk to himself right before they had sex, which in all honesty, Louis thought was a strange pep talk thing, and that if he really needed a pep talk before sex, he probably shouldn’t have been having sex, but that was Harry. That was Harry. Gentle and quiet, and strange as anything, but Harry, and Harry was safe. 

Soon enough, Harry was pulling at the drawstring of his pants, just as Louis pulled his old shirt over his head, disturbing the nest of curls above him. Harry wasn’t much for foreplay normally; so Louis had expected him _get right to business_. It took him by surprise when Harry’s hand came to circle around his cock. He pumped up and down slowly, at a weird angle that Louis could tell was uncomfortable for him, but he made no move to change it. As his thumb came to rub over the head, Louis couldn’t bear it, and something between “Fuck” and “love” and just a moan. He burrowed his face into Harry’s neck, just under his ear, with his mouth fallen open so that hot air coated Harry’s skin and made the little hairs stand up. 

Despite this, Harry was still whispering to him like he always did. “So good baby boy” and “you’re okay Lou, you’re okay” fell into the air between them as hot and wet words, spoken breathlessly, and quickly, and desperately. The hand that Harry didn’t have around him cock, making Louis feel breathless and desperate, wouldn’t stop roaming. It was like he couldn’t stop touching Louis. Like he just couldn’t get enough of his skin under his fingertips. 

Eventually Louis felt himself getting close. He didn’t want to come with Harry’s hand on him; he wanted to come with Harry in him. “Fuck, fuck, Harry stop” Harry came to a stop with a lightning fast reaction. He probably thought that Louis was calling it all off. _Which was the opposite of what he was doing_. “I’m going to come if you keep doing that” 

“Do you-“ Harry started, and it wasn’t clear that he was even asking. Was he asking if Louis wanted to come? Or if he wanted to be fucked, _which Louis definitely did_. 

“Fuck me?” Louis asked an innocently as someone could when they were plastering their whole body to someone else, hot and wet and breathlessly –which was, interestingly, not very innocently. 

Harry’s eyes were bright green, like the deep water of the sea when the night was coming towards it. “Yeah, yeah” he said to himself again. He was looking into Louis’ eyes and facing him, but he was not speaking to Louis. That was just Harry. He had to do that. And the more Louis thought about it, he kind of liked it. He kind of liked that Harry was so concerned about him that he had to actually affirm to himself that Louis wanted things. 

Harry slowly removed his hand from Louis’ cock, so as not to shock him, and leaned to his side towards the small table next to his bed where they always kept the oil. It was strangely public, but it wasn’t as if anyone but the two of them were ever in Harry’s room anyways. While he did so, Louis rolled off of him, to actually get his pants off all of the way, because they were his nice pants and he didn’t want to get oil all over them. 

Over the last three months, Louis had become quite proud of himself for being able to take Harry’s fingers without discomfort, but when Harry sunk his first finger into him, it felt like the very first time again. Maybe it was that Louis was nervous, or that Louis wanted to please him, or that this was strangely intimate, but Louis felt different. 

It wasn’t entirely like the first time. Louis’ first time had been painful, and uncomfortable and Louis hadn’t understood the appeal of sex until he was close to coming. This time, Louis was enjoying himself, and he wanted Harry there: inside of him. He wanted more of Harry in him. He wanted all of Harry in him. 

“More” Louis whispered desperately, “Another. Please,” he insisted. He knew he didn’t have to beg. Harry never made him beg. But the way it all felt made Louis _want_ to beg. 

Of course Harry would never have made Louis ask more than once, because not even a moment after Louis asked, he could feel the pressure of Harry’s middle finger at his entrance, pushing in slowly and gently, but also perfectly. He started to stretch Louis out slowly, as if there was no hurry in the world. Louis kind of wanted to scream at him that he had been just seconds from coming only a few minutes before, and he was no further now. 

He spent far longer on just two fingers than Louis would have if it had been him, but Harry was always worried about hurting him. It seemed like there was nothing that he hated more than the idea that he could be hurting Louis by not taking enough time to prepare him, even if Louis was telling him over and over that he was ready. He wouldn’t make Louis beg, but he wouldn’t let Louis be hurt. That was Harry. 

When a third finger did come, Louis wanted to come right there, what with the pressure of it, and the stretch, and the fact that it was Harry. Harry’s fingers did everything that Louis’ own couldn’t. They were long, and deep, and everything Louis ever wanted. 

“Harry” Louis pleaded, “Harry, I’m ready, I swear its fine just –do it” 

Harry wasn’t one to make Louis beg. 

When he finally did sink into Louis, long and thick, stretching Louis out in all the right places, Louis audibly sighed. Not from pain, or discomfort or surprise, but from contention. This was one of the things that made Louis happy. He loved having sex with Harry, who was gentle and perfect and kind and everything that Louis had dreamed a partner would be. It was all the exact opposite of what John had been like, or any of the other supposedly upstanding men who had used him. Imagine that. Of all of the men Louis had ever been touched by, the only one who treated him kindly was a pirate. 

Harry thrust into him slowly, but deeply. He hit that one spot inside of Louis over and over until he was screaming. There was no intensity between them, but the feeling of it burst out of Louis in loud moans. Sometimes they were caught in Harry’s mouth and other times they escaped into the air around them. 

Harry thrust over and over, deep into Louis, until he started to get more erratic, and Louis knew he was close to coming. He was too. 

Suddenly, Louis felt it very important to talk to him, which was probably the last thing that Harry wanted to happen right when he was about to come. “You don’t have to like-“ Louis almost didn’t want to say it, “come in me if you don’t’ want to. I won’t be upset. You know that right?’ 

Harry didn’t stop moving, which was both fulfilling for Louis’ body, but a bit uncomfortable for Louis’ mind, which kind of wanted to talk it out. Harry looked into his eyes from a second before kissing him deeply and committedly. Then, he looked straight back at Louis and said very firmly, “I want to. If you want me to, then I want to” 

Louis couldn’t help but feel weird about that. Was he just doing it for Louis? Because that was the last thing Louis wanted from Harry. He wanted Harry to be happy, not forced to make Louis happy. 

“Besides,” Harry said, still thrusting hard into Louis, “it’s not going to happen the first time” 

Then, Louis realized what he meant. It was obvious what “it” was, but he’d said that it wasn’t going to happen “the first time” and that meant it was going to happen. A baby was going to happen. 

Louis leaned up and kissed him hard. And right as he did, he felt Harry come inside of him. _I love you_ , he wanted to yell to him, and scream to the masses. "I love you” floated out into the air quietly, in the afterglow of everything. 

But it wasn’t from Louis’ mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about throwing in a Ziam chapter in the next couple chapters. Thoughts? 
> 
> As always, comment to make me happy. And maybe even update like a regular person (no promises).


	9. 2.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm still alive. Along with this chapter you get a complementary life update  
> 1\. I came out to my mom as bisexual, so that's very exciting  
> 2\. I'm at a summer program for the next month and I don't know if I'll have much time to write so this may be it for a while.

Louis awoke the next morning before Harry, with his head resting softly against Harry’s still naked chest and Harry’s arms holding him close by his waist. His head had lulled to the side over night and his mouth had fallen open by the smallest of measures, but enough that he was sucking in little whistling breaths and blowing out gentle gusts of wind. By the shade of subtle yellow washing over the bedroom, Louis could tell that it was early morning and the sun had not long belonged to the sky. There was surely still a little mist blanketing the sea, turning it a calm, opaque shade of dull grey. Louis reckoned that if he had been able to pull himself from Harry’s grasp, he’d have been able to see Tortuga in the far distance. 

Harry was holding him harder than he used to, and Louis couldn’t help but feel that it was in an effort to keep him there all night, just in case he had intended to slip out to Liam again. Harry’s hands were clasped together behind his lower back, holding him onto his chest. If Louis pressed his ear a little harder to his pectoral he could hear Harry’s steady heartbeat, slow in sleep but melodic. Louis could write sonnets about that heartbeat. There was nothing Louis loved more than to hear his heart beat alive and steady. Harry was there, and he was trustworthy, and he was sticking around. There was nothing that Louis loved more. 

He lay there for more than a few moments, drawing little patterns on the smooth expanses of Harry’s skin. Harry seemed deep in sleep, unable to be stirred by anything that Louis could do to touch him –well, Louis reckoned that if he had, a blowjob probably would have awoken him. He could feel the sun rising on his skin as the cool yellow faded into a full, vibrant orange glow. It would be a hot day, Louis could tell that from the way the sun seemed to be penetrating his skin quickly and leaving him with a sticky layer of sweat even in the early morning. 

His own hot breaths were starting to heat Harry’s skin too, but he wouldn’t wake up. Louis could only lie trapped for so long before it started to irritate him. Slowly but surely he inched his lips towards Harry’s, knowing that if nothing else, he could cut off Harry’s air supply with kisses until his own body forced himself awake _(that’s what you get for being a mouth breather, baby)_. As he kissed Harry’s mouth over and over he could feel him slowly come to the surface until he was smiling against Louis’ lips. 

“Good morning, baby boy” Harry said into his mouth, his fingers tracing up and down Louis’ back, tickling his skin. 

Louis slipped his leg over Harry’s other hip, so that he was straddling over him. Louis didn’t intend on taking it anything further than that, seeing as they would arrive in Tortuga in what Louis predicted was less than an hour, but there wasn’t anything wrong with a little fun, was there? 

“I love you,” Harry whispered, and Louis had almost forgotten. He had almost forgotten that Harry had said that the night before. It seemed so surreal that Harry had really said it. And even more surreal that Louis, who had known that he loved Harry for months, had not said anything back. 

“I love you, too” Louis whispered softer than Harry, with the sun beating down on them, filling Louis with a warm fuzzy feeling that he just couldn’t shake. Everything felt warm and surrounded by the same warm orange that had enveloped them the night before. That was love, wasn’t it? 

Harry kissed him softly, craning his neck up to catch all of Louis’ lips on his. His fingers snaked down to sit low on Louis’ hips, and Louis realized that he was still naked. Well, he had realized when he’d accidently brushed his cock against Harry’s earlier, but he realized that Harry knew too. He didn’t stay there for long though, because his hands ran over the sensitive skin at the base of Louis’ spine until they were resting on each of his arse cheeks. 

He pulled Louis closer, until he was practically sitting on his dick –which couldn’t have been comfortable at all. He licked his way into Louis’ mouth, his tongue running over the familiar curves and ridges. Just when Louis least expected it, Harry pulled back and looked him straight into his eyes as he asked, “Does that mean you aren’t leaving?” 

Louis had thought that he’d made that pretty clear. He and Harry had quite literally kissed and made up. Why would he be leaving? He _loved_ Harry, and Harry knew it; there was no way that he was leaving then. And, he could be pregnant, so there was definitely no way he was leaving. He shook his head with a smile creeping onto his face with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, “I’m not going.” 

Harry surged up to kiss him again. “I love you so much,” he said between deep, long kisses, “fuck, I love you so much.” Louis couldn’t help but laugh quietly into Harry’s mouth as he went on his love filled rant, kissing him back in hopes of shutting him up for just long enough to keep his lips on him. 

Then Louis remembered Liam –despite the fact that the situation absolutely did not warrant him thinking of Liam at all. “Wait, wait, wait,” he pushed Harry’s chest back onto the bed so that he wasn’t at risk of being kissed in the middle of his sentence, “what about Liam?” 

Harry looked at him like he was insane, “Fuck Liam” he said quickly before trying to sit up and kiss Louis again. Louis pushed him back down. 

“He’s mad at me. I said a really bad thing.” 

Harry sighed, “he told me, and honestly he’s probably over it. He just gets sensitive about that.” Harry may have said it, but he was almost positive that Liam is not over it. Liam didn’t get over things like that, after all it had been close to nine months since it had all happened and he was still sensitive to it. Louis had known that, too. But he couldn’t stop that stupid mouth of his closed, could he? 

“Don’t lie,” Louis told him, looking him straight back in the eyes. He didn’t like when Harry babied him, after all that had been the cause of the entire issue in the first place. 

Harry sighed, “I’ll talk to him, okay?” and then he pushed himself to sit despite Louis trying to push him down, “it’s an issue for him to deal with, not you, okay?” then, before Louis could cut in, “and I’m not saying that because I don’t think you’re capable of dealing with it, it’s just that he gets weird sometimes. Trust me, I’ve known him since he was 13.” 

Louis nodded, dejected. He wanted to be the one to deal with his own issues. He didn’t like when Harry did it all. Before he could protest any more, Harry’s lips found his again. His fingers, which had been resting on his arse cheeks slowly started to make their way in until one was starting to press just the slightest amount of pressure onto Louis’ swollen hole. He broke the kiss and dug his face into Harry’s neck, “no,” he moaned, “sore.” 

Although Louis’ face stayed buried in the soft skin of Harry’s neck, he could feel Harry smirk, “yeah?” he asked smugly, as if proud of his work. 

Louis wrapped his fingers tight around his neck and looked at Harry with a face that he hoped conveyed that he was both irritated by Harry’s smugness, and fully satisfied by Harry’s work as well. “Yeah,” he affirmed to Harry, “no sex ever again.”

Harry’s face turned from a look of pride to a look of mock fury, “no sex ever again!” he exclaimed. He moved his lips to the shell of Louis’ ear to whisper, “that’ll make having a baby hard, don’t you reckon?” and Louis wanted to cry. 

There was nothing he wanted more than to have a baby with Harry, and now he was going to get it. God, he loved Harry. He finally let himself think of the little boy he’d imagined before, with blue eyes and curly brown hair. He’d be a tiny pirate, raised on a ship. Sure, maybe it would be a strange childhood, but Louis would make sure it was a perfect one. That boy would have two parents who loved him with every fibre of their being, and he’d be happy, and healthy, and beautiful, and everything Louis had ever wished he could have. 

“Okay,” Louis reasoned, “maybe sex a couple more times.” He smiled down to Harry, for once taller than him if only because Harry’s thighs bolstered him up. “But not now. Anyways, we’re going to be in Tortuga in a little bit, and I don’t want to be limping around,” as he smiled down, he realized that he now had no idea what the plan was for the crew with their sudden detour, “how long are we staying there, anyways?” 

Harry sat there and thought for a moment, as if he hadn’t really thought about it. “I think we’ll stay for a few days. I have some business to deal with, and depending on how that goes, we’ll be off somewhere to do some pirating” Harry smiled, as if joking about the fact that he was a pirate. Louis didn’t really understand it, because Harry was serious about his life, because Louis was serious about his life. 

Piracy was something he had never believed he would want. He remembered thinking about it soon after he arrived, how he’d never want to stay forever. And then he started to think about staying with Harry forever. And then he started to think about having a child stay forever. And then he started to think that he would like to be a pirate forever. He wanted to be a pirate who fought beside the man he loved, and stood up to the sort of people who had forced them into the lifestyle they lived. 

“A few days is a long time,” Louis said, not even sure in the moment what he was saying, “maybe I can even sleep on land for the first time in months,” he laughed. The thought of a bed that didn’t rock back and forth in the middle of the night intrigued him. The bed was certainly more comfortable than the hammock, but there was nothing that could beat the comfort of a bed that didn’t move. 

“I’ll get us an inn room, yeah?” Harry asked softly. 

Louis nodded, “I’d like that,” he said. He couldn’t go home, but maybe he could feel just a little bit more normal after a few days on land. He’d only be a few miles from his family, living like he used to. Maybe it would bring it all home a little bit more. Maybe he could finally leave that home, and make his own. 

Harry looked up at him with a look of wonder, “I love you so much” he said all of a sudden out of nowhere. 

“I love you too,” Louis affirmed. 

“No, Lou” Harry stopped him, “I love you more than I think I’ve ever loved anyone before” Louis’ heart tugged from his chest, writhing inside of him in a desperate attempt to get to Harry. He didn’t know if he loved Harry like that, just yet, but he so wanted to. He wanted nothing more than that. “Now come on, I have captaining to do. I’ve got to make sure these buffoons haven’t got us off on the wrong course during our reconciliation” Harry said jokingly, obviously insinuating that make up sex did not count as reconciling –although Louis strongly disagreed. 

Then, from behind the door there was a familiar Irish accent yelling rather loudly through it, “I wouldn’t call that reconciling, Cap’ain” 

Louis could feel his face heating up. He hid it from Harry, but he could already feel him shaking with laughter. The other perks of sleeping off of the ship would definitely involve not having others listen to him having sex with their captain. 

Harry didn’t bother to give Niall the satisfaction of a response, and rather picked Louis up off of his thighs so that he could climb out of bed and find clothes from the scattered mess all over their floor. 

Louis remembered the first time he’d seen that room, with its simple décor and pristine conditions. It seemed that Louis had somehow infiltrated it, until throwing clothes and leaving them on the floor was okay and having pots of ink strewn across every surface was just part of life. He liked it. It felt like home. 

For the brief moment before Harry pulled a pair of leather pants up his legs, Louis admired the view with gusto. He couldn’t even fathom how he’d managed to bag that kind of man. When he turned around and caught Louis staring, his smirk slipped back onto his face. Instead of saying anything, he just threw a shirt at Louis. 

It was fairly clean, and actually Louis’ –which was a miracle, judging by the amount of times Louis had just opted to wear a shirt 3 sizes too big for him rather than search for a smaller one. He slipped on a pair of plain cotton pants, a far cry from the extravagance of Harry. 

Once they were both dressed, Harry slipped his overcoat on and sat his hat atop his head before grabbing Louis’ smaller one from the spot beside his own and set it on Louis’ feathery hair. He finished it off with a kiss on Louis’ nose and a sigh to switch himself from Harry to Captain Styles. 

No matter how long Louis had been around, Captain Styles never went away, truly. He disappeared the moment Louis came into his sight, but he was still there in Louis’ peripheral. He was still a pale, drained version of the man he loved. As if Harry had come back from the dead as something just not quite Harry. 

*** 

They took little rowboats from the ship to shore, and Louis wanted so much to be on solid land that he was tempted to jump out and swim the last half. Harry must have sensed his anxiousness, because his arm wrapped subtly around Louis’ waist to keep him seated. 

It was hot as all hell. Louis could see the sweat on the faces of the men on the shore, washing away grime and grease until it pooled in dark spots on their faces. They were fisherman and merchants with not enough credibility to sell in the markets, desperate to sell to pirates. Some were prostitutes, even in the early hours of morning, looking to make some gold off of the needs of pirates after months at sea.

As they reached the shore, Harry yelled out to the boats behind them that they would leave at sunrise on Wednesday, three days from then. As usual, a threat was tacked onto the end, saying that anyone not on the ship would be left for dead. 

Without so much as a word, Harry, Louis, Liam and Zayn all moved into town. They all knew where they were going, but none of them had discussed it. Louis hadn’t even known that Liam and Zayn were joining them, and he felt a little bit unwelcome with Liam there. 

As they weaved their way through the busy streets, past carts and shops, Liam held Zayn close to him and far from Louis. It was an obvious attempt to hurt Louis, and it was working. When Louis would normally be chatting with Zayn as they walked, he was now silenced and stuck close to Harry, as if trying to hurt Liam right back by taking his friend. It was all for nought though, because Liam chatted amicably to Harry as they turned further and further into the town until the sounds started to seem further and further away just as they had the time before.

Eventually they found themselves in front of the familiar house, but instead of darkness shrouding the entrance and the little window set into the door emanating nothing but black, the door was wide open. Inside, people were bustling around the pots and piles of flowers with light streaming in from windows all around. It seemed like there was a mix of people in Doniya’s shop. Some were obviously pirates, with rings filled with rubies and emeralds over their fingers, but others seemed like they may have been locals, picking up flowers for their families. 

And right at the centre of it all was Doniya. She stood tall and beautiful, with her eyes shining bright and beautiful. She wore the same heavy gold jewellery, and in the light of day she looked like a goddess personified. Her teeth shone so bright that Louis swore they were their own light source. 

She saw the four of them walk in and stood up from where she was picking flowers for an old man with her arms outstretched. 

Zayn practically threw himself into his sister’s arms. They embraced for what felt like forever, and Louis was captivated. He could only think of what he would give to be able to do the same to Lottie, or any of his other sisters. To hold them, and see that they were all right after all those months of being away. If only he could go home, just for the day and see them. If only he could speak to them one last time. 

And just as he thought about it, there was a flash of bright blonde hair to his right. There, with her back turned to him was a girl. She wore a dress, blue like the sea in the afternoon, when it was washed in just a little bit of green. She was bent over to pick flowers from a large terracotta pot filled with something purple. And when she stood up to hand the bunch of them to a lady with a crème dress and tired eyes she was just as tall as- 

“Lottie?” Louis felt his lips formed around the words before he even realized what he was seeing. 

And as she turned around, there she was. Lottie was there, in Doniya’s flower shop, on Tortuga. His little sister was in a pirate port. And she looked _happy_. 

Before Louis even knew it, Lottie was in his arms with her little arms wrapped tightly around his waist and her cheek pressed into his chest. He could feel her tears seeping through his shirt and onto his skin. He could feel his own tears as they fell onto her hair. _God, he’d missed her_. 

When he finally pulled back with his hands on her shoulders as if to admire the woman she had become in the three months he’d been away, all he could ask was,   
“what are you doing here?” 

Lottie opened her mouth as if she was going to tell him, but Doniya beat her to it, “I opened her letter. I’m sorry Louis, but you weren’t going to be back for months, and I thought that maybe there would be something urgent in there, so I opened it. And she needed to be out of that house, Louis. I couldn’t leave her there knowing that she was being abused.” 

Louis eyes snapped back to Lottie, who stood in front of him still, with a look of emotionlessness. “What?” he couldn’t fathom what he had just been told. 

“He’d been uh-“ Lottie started out, stuttering, “hitting me since you’d left.” And before Louis could cut in, she continued, “I told you in the letter just to tell you that I got it, why you’d left, but then I got this letter back a couple of weeks later from Doniya. She set it all up, even had someone come to get me. I tried to get Fizzy and Daisy and Phoebe to come, but they didn’t want to leave. And I couldn’t anymore. I couldn’t take it, Lou.” The tears fell from her eyes again as she spoke, this time from sadness. Louis wrapped her up again. He’d known it would happen. He had known that it wasn’t safe for his sisters if he left, and he’d still done it. 

He was a monster, wasn’t he? 

“How long?” 

Lottie sighed quietly, dredging up the memories, “only a few weeks. And it wasn’t every day, just when he was angry,” she told him, but Louis knew their father, and Louis knew that he was angry more often than not. 

“Fuck, Lottie,” he exclaimed, and held her close. He had let that happen to her. There was no one else to blame but Louis for that. But now she was safe, he reminded himself over and over. It was over, and she was far away from their father. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” 

There was not any amount of time that he could hold her, when it would be enough. There was never enough of Lottie. Louis could have spent the rest of his life with Lottie is his arms. He would have given up everything. For a moment, even Harry and the idea of a baby didn’t matter. This whole life he had built for himself didn’t matter. There was nothing but Lottie on his mind. 

They spent hours together. Eventually they found themselves upstairs in Doniya’s flat in a plush chair meant for one, crowded together. Lottie stayed wrapped up in Louis’ arms for all of it. He told her all about Harry, and life on the pirate ship. About his fighting lessons and the terrible food. He went on forever about Zayn and Niall and Gemma and Barbara, about the friends he had made and the world he’d created for himself. 

He even told her about Liam, and the way he had become like another sibling to him. He told her all about nights on the deck with everyone but the two of them asleep as Louis fumbled around with a weapon, and Liam went easy on him. He told her about the first time that he had disarmed Liam and how, even if it was obviously rigged for him to win, it was the proudest moment of his life. Like a little brother finally doing something on par with the older brother he had hero-worshipped for all his life. 

He didn’t tell her what he’d done to end it all, though. 

*** 

It was later that night, when he and Harry were lying in a bed in an inn with a roof over their heads and a bed that didn’t rock, that Louis couldn’t get Lottie out of his head. “We can’t take her with us,” Louis said to Harry, turning his head to see him. 

Harry looked at him with a face of defensiveness, “I never said that,” he argued, as if Louis had said that he had. Or that he was expecting that Harry would have thought so. 

“I know you didn’t” Louis argued back with a more biting tone than he’d intended, “I said it. I mean, that on Wednesday I’ll have to leave her here. She’s too young to come with us, isn’t she?” 

Harry shrugged, “Liam was thirteen when he joined.” 

“Do you want her to come?” Louis asked, appalled. How could he wish a fate of piracy on Lottie? Even if Louis had come to love it, he didn’t wish the persecution and danger on anyone, Lottie was a child! Even if Liam was thirteen, it didn’t mean that it had been a good idea! 

‘Do you not?” Harry countered. 

“She’s too young for all of this,” Louis told him, calmer then. Lottie was not fierce enough for the pirate world. Louis wasn’t fierce enough for the pirate world! “We can’t take her” 

Harry nodded eventually, and Louis wasn’t sure if he was just agreeing in order to make Louis happy, or if he really agreed. “Okay,” he nodded again as he spoke, “I know people who can care for her if Doniya can’t. We’ll keep her safe Lou,” he promised. 

Louis couldn’t help but cuddle up to Harry as he spoke, with his head on his chest and love in his heart. He could feel how much Harry cared about Lottie, because he cared about Louis, and Louis cared about Lottie. “Thank you” he whispered into Harry’s skin. He could feel Harry’s heartbeat on his lips, and the bonfire warmth of his living body. He pressed a soft kiss just above Harry’s heart, to feel him closer. “I love you.” 

“I love you too” Harry replied, and with the tip of his fingers, he tilted Louis’ chin up until he could kiss him gently with a smile sneaking across his face. Louis couldn’t help but scramble up to kiss Harry on the same level, deeply and earnestly. 

“Can we stop talking about my sister now?” he giggled. His fingers ran over the ripples of Harry’s skin, raising himself up so that he was on top of him. 

Harry laughed into his mouth, “I thought you were sore,” he taunted.

Louis groaned, “That was twelve hours ago, I’m good to go now,” he insisted, grabbing at the edges of his shirt as he pulled it over his head with a grin. He could tell that even as Harry tried to look surprised, his eyes wandered down Louis chest with wide eyes of anticipation. 

Quickly rolling off of Harry, he shimmied off his trousers. Harry tried to be subtle, but Louis could see his eyes looking Louis up and down from the side. Harry covered him as soon as he had gotten his trousers kicked off his ankles. Louis could feel his clothes brush over his naked body, and there was something incredibly alluring about it, although Louis couldn’t put his finger on why. 

He dragged his fingertips over Louis’ body, intentionally avoiding the one place that Louis wanted them. “Don’t be a tease” he giggled into Harry’s mouth. 

Harry’s fingers came to rest over Louis’ nipples. He probably hadn’t even noticed it, but Louis’ body _definitely_ did, and he could barely focus on Harry’s quiet insistence of “I’m trying to be romantic.” And maybe he felt Louis pushing his chest into the palms of his hands because he paused for a second and then, looking more at Louis’ nipples than Louis’ face, “can I just-“ 

And suddenly there was a wet heat covering Louis’ nipple. He’d never thought he had sensitive nipples, but the moment Harry’s mouth touched his skin, Louis changed his mind, “Fuck,” he breathed. And Harry’s mouth started to move further down his body, over his ribs, and his stomach until it reached Louis’ now rock hard, leaking cock. Just as Harry’s mouth started to lick over the tip, Louis pushed his head back and off of his cock. “Nope, nope, nope!” he exclaimed, “I’m going to come if you do that” 

Harry looked at him with a look of total confusion, “do you-“ he paused, “not want to?” It was as if he could not understand how Louis could possibly not want to come that very second. 

“Not if you aren’t in me!” Louis explained, “We have an agenda here!” 

Harry laughed, “I don’t think our baby will be determined by whether or not you get off with a blowjob.” He kissed Louis’ hip softly, but kept with Louis’ wishes. 

“Just fuck me, and then we can make a baby _and_ I can get off,” Louis scoffed. He pulled Harry up by a hand on each of his cheeks to his lips. Kissing him hard, Louis could feel Harry pushing his own trousers off his hips. His cock sprung out over the waistband, long, thick, leaking, and everything Louis wanted inside of him. 

Losing any sense of patience, Louis leaned passed Harry to grab the brand new vial of oil from the bedside table. They’d grabbed it form a shop when Lottie had been distracted by something, because Louis wasn’t fond of scaring is little sister for life. “I’ll do it myself,” he muttered quietly, slicking up one of his own fingers. He’d never done this before, and he was slightly apprehensive about doing it, but eventually the need for Harry overcame any fear he had. 

The stretch was uncomfortable as always, but so much more pleasurable than it used to be. He went faster than he probably should have, and much faster than Harry would have, but all he cared about was being finished with prep and getting to the good part. “Okay, ready” 

Harry shook his head, “no you aren’t,” he insisted and slicked up his own fingers to finish the job, because of course Harry would. Harry would never let Louis to anything that would hurt himself. As he stretched Louis out slow and methodically until he deemed him prepped enough. 

When he finally pushed in, Louis swore that he didn’t audibly gasp, but he was already so hard that he felt as if he might come that very second, and it was _so good_. “Ahh –ah,” he gasped, half into Harry’s mouth, the other half escaping into the quiet room. The only other sounds were Harry’s heavy, rhythmic breathing, exhaling in time with each of his thrusts. 

After only a few minutes of the heat and pressure of Harry, Louis was sure he was close. “I’m going to come!” he breathed into the air. 

“Go on baby,” Harry told him, out of breath and passionate, “come for me.” 

And that was all it took. 

*** 

They spent the next day with Lottie, exploring the island and buying things none of them needed in markets. By the end of the morning, they were all full of sweets from little candy carts and French pastries made by people who were decidedly not French. Louis introduced Lottie to members of his crew as they passed them in the streets and each seemed to take a liking to her just as much as Harry had. 

Lottie and Harry got on swimmingly. As they navigated the narrow, cobblestoned streets, sometimes they would leave poor Louis in their dust, drawn up in some conversation about absolute nonsense. Lottie loved the idea of Harry being a pirate captain. She asked all sorts of questions, many of which Louis could have answered himself, all of which Harry answered generously with a smile. 

The way he spoke to her, it seemed almost like he did want her to join the crew. Maybe it was because he was starting to genuinely like her, and maybe it was because he thought that she would make Louis happy, but he never spoke about the ship in a way that would make it seem like it was a place not fit for a child like herself. He spoke of the wonder of being on the open seas, and the comradely of the crew. Louis could tell it was making her want to go. 

When they arrived back to Doniya’s shop near noon, they were greeted with sombre faces. Doniya looked as if she had been punched in the stomach by some terrible news, and Zayn sat next to her, looking down through his long eyelashes at his fingertips. 

Harry looked at her knowingly, and all Doniya said was, “he’s taking Waliya back. We always knew the day would come, she’s the pirate type, you know. We just thought we’d have longer with her” 

Louis had never met Waliya. She had always been out when he’d been in the shop, but he knew about Zayn’s little sister. He’d known from the way Zayn had talked about her that she was meant to be a captain. Zayn had always spoken about the natural leadership ability she possessed, and her natural scrappiness. He’d always claimed that she could control a room of grown men with the snap of her fingers as a child. He’d also always said that one day, their father would return to have her run one of his fleet. Louis guessed that day had come. 

That also meant- “is your father in town?” Louis asked all of a sudden. The idea that he was on the same island of Yaser Malik was terrifying. The idea that he had grown up not far from a place that Yaser Malik frequented was terrifying. 

‘Aye” was said into the room, but not from either Zayn or Doniya. It came from Harry. 

There was only one reason why Harry would know that Yaser Malik was in town, and that would be because he was doing business with him. And here, Louis had thought that he was changing the course for him. Of course he would change the course suddenly to do business with Malik. Anyone in their right mind would agree to do business with Malik. If you wanted anything in the pirate world, you had to be on good terms with Malik. 

With that, Harry left the little house. He told no one where he was headed, not even Louis, which meant he was only going one place. 

All pirate business was handled in the inn. It was a disconcertingly organized process of transactions taking place in rooms between prostitutes and pirates so drunk they couldn’t stand. Louis had slept there the night before. In the same building as Yaser Malik. 

Just as Harry left, the little bell atop the door rang, loud and clear. Doniya and Lottie both jumped up instinctively, ready to serve customers. As they ran down the stairs into the shop, Louis sat himself down in an overstuffed chair across from Zayn. 

For a while they didn’t talk, and Louis fear that perhaps he’d ruined everything with Zayn too. Zayn sat with his hands in his lap, looking intently at his fingers without so much as acknowledging Louis’ existence. After what felt like eons, Zayn finally opened his mouth to speak. “You should piss off Liam more often.” 

Louis was confused to say the least. He was about to exclaim a very perplexed _“what?”_ when Zayn held up his left hand with a grin. And there, with a flash of metal, Louis saw the ring, which had not been there before. It was massive and glittering gold with a large sapphire in the middle. It was a pirate’s wedding ring if Louis had ever seen one. “Oh my god!” he exclaimed with a hand coming to cover his mouth. He could barely believe that Liam had actually dragged the ring out of his chest in the sleeping quarters and finally asked Zayn. He was starting to think that it might never happen. 

Zayn’s grin turned into him beaming. His eyes scrunched up and his teeth gleamed white, exposed by the wide smile his lips had formed around. “We’re going to have Harry do all the official things on Thursday, once we’re back on the ship, because it’s got the be the captain who officiates it all, but I still get to wear the ring ‘til then,” he explained, then gasped of his own excitement, “isn’t it just so exciting Louis!” 

Louis could only nod, with a smile bursting onto his own face. As he stared at Zayn’s new ring, he could only think that perhaps he would like one too. He’d like silver or platinum rather than gold, and maybe diamonds rather than a sapphire. He wouldn’t like it as big as Zayn’s, because his hands are too small to accommodate such a size. He tried to imagine situations where Harry had slaved over picking a ring at a jeweller, and had it hidden in some secret desk drawer than he knew Louis wouldn’t look through –which was silly, because Louis looked through everything obsessively. He _knew_ that Harry didn’t have a ring for him and yet, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he’d just been hiding it. Maybe. Okay maybe not, but Louis could dream, couldn’t he? “I can’t believe he finally did it!” Louis exclaimed, finally realizing that he hadn’t responded to Zayn. 

“Neither can I!” Zayn beamed. Louis had never seen Zayn so happy. Not in three months of his life had he ever seen the boy smile like he did when he looked at the brand new ring. “I’m glad Wahli’ got to see it before she left,” he said, suddenly quieter and more downcast. 

“What’s going to happen to her?” Louis asked. 

“She’s needed to captain one of my dad’s fleet. We always knew it would happen eventually. When he let us all go there was always a silent promise that Wahliya would be returning. She was always too good at it. I think she’s happy to go honestly, she’s trying to be sad for all of us, but really she’s ecstatic” Zayn explained, and Louis could tell that he was trying his hardest to stop himself from crying. 

“You asked to leave?” Louis asked, thinking of all of the stories Zayn had told about his childhood. Years of travelling the world and living free sounded like a dream to Louis, why would anyone want to leave? 

Zayn sighed, as if trying to figure out how to explain his feelings to Louis, “you know how you were desperate to get to land when we arrived the other day?” Louis nodded, “Well imagine if you had spent seventeen years of your life at sea. We had stops and things of course, but the days out in the sea with nothing to do out numbered the fun ones, eventually. And the violence kept coming, even when we were children. Doniya begged our parents for years to let her go, and eventually we all followed” 

Louis had always wanted to ask it, but he’d never had the guts until that moment, “Why did you end up on Port Royal?” 

Zayn sighed. This time not because he struggled with finding the words to say it, but because he struggled with remembering it. He stayed silent for a while, and Louis worried again that he had pushed too far, but eventually Zayn looked up to speak, “Doniya and I had a fight, because I’d been doing it on the side for extra money already -you know- the whoring, And she didn’t like it because she thought –and still does- that it was immoral. Probably is, honestly. But I needed the money and she said that I’d have to leave _her_ house if I kept doing it,” Zayn shrugged, “so I did.” 

Louis could imagine Doniya saying that sort of thing. She wouldn’t mean it of course, but if it meant she’d prove her point or keep her brother safe, she would have said anything. Louis could only imagine the look of horror on her face when Zayn announced that he was leaving, when her plan backfired so awfully. 

But, if Zayn had wanted to leave piracy so much, why had he returned for Captain Grimshaw? “Why’d you go back? To piracy, I mean” 

Zayn shrugged, “Liam’s a pirate, and I wanted to be with Liam.” Was all he said, as if it was all that needed to be said, and realistically it was. There was nothing confusing about Zayn’s motivation. Not from the way he still smiled down at the ring in his lap, or the way he said _Liam_. 

*** 

Wahliya’s ship was set to leave the port on Wednesday morning. They all gathered around the docks to wave her off, her siblings obviously trying to smile through the pain of losing their little sister. 

The ship was just as large as _The Rose_ and just as populated by grown men. Louis couldn’t help but feel for her just a little bit. She was only Lottie’s age, and even if she could keep them all under her thumb, it was still worrisome. There were a couple of other girls on her crew, handpicked by Wahliya herself. They all looked like lovely girls, and Louis could tell that Lottie was thinking the exact same thing from where she stood between him and Harry. 

Lottie looked as if she wanted to run towards them all, onto the ship, to join her crew. And Louis thought that he might just let her. He’d done the same to her, hadn’t he? At least with her, he would get to say goodbye to his little sister, and he’d know that she’d be in good hands. 

He looked over Lottie’s little head for a second to make eye contact with Harry, as if to silently ask if it was okay to let her go. Harry seemed to understand what he was asking, and with a neutral face, just nodded a little bit so as not to have Lottie see. 

Louis looked down at her, and when her eyes met his, he could see the yearning in them. She wanted to be up there, with Wahliya, sailing around the world. She wanted to be a pirate just like Louis. Malik’s ships were good: she’d be safe. 

“You can go, if you want,” he told her, hoping that his own voice wouldn’t crack over tears. 

He saw Lottie’s eyes grow with massive surprise. She looked overjoyed. It seemed as if she didn’t even believe that Louis was allowing her to do it. “Really!” she exclaimed in disbelief. 

Louis shrugged, “It’s your life Lots’ I can’t tell you what to do. You aren’t a child, after all.” And with that, Lottie hugged him hard. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he wanted to cry when he realized that Lottie no longer had to rise to her tiptoes to hug him. She was so big, and now she was going out into the world to explore and become something that would not be the Lottie he had grown up with. Just as he was not the Louis that she’d grown up with. They were more than rich parents and fancy dinners; it had just taken them a while longer to see themselves for who they were. He was so proud of her. 

And it wasn’t goodbye forever, he reminded himself as he embraced her. Ships passed each other, and they would share business. Wahliya would want to see Zayn on the ship, or Doniya on the island. They would figure it out. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and it felt as if a weight had finally lifted off his shoulders. He was finally able to say goodbye to Lottie, the proper way. No more hastily written letters, or silent goodbyes. Even if the circumstances were different, at least he got what he needed. It felt like closure of some sort. As if for months his life had been open ended, with no real ending to his life before. Now it was over for good. Lottie wasn’t at home, and Louis couldn’t go back. There was nothing more to do. 

Finally it was over. And Louis no longer floated between the life of a noble and the life of a pirate. He had finally sunken to the ground from the unknown air and he had landed on a ship, flying a black flag, with friends, and peers, and the most beautiful captain, who loved him so. What more could Louis want? 

With one final kiss on Lottie’s blonde hair, they pulled away from each other. He tried to commit her face to memory. His eyes, his lips, someone else’s nose. She was perfect in every way, and Louis wanted to remember her just as she was then, strong, and independent, and happy. He only wanted her happiness. 

“Bye,” she whispered softly, taking him in as well. And then she ran to the ship, with nothing but the clothes on her back –as Harry would have said, _the old fashioned way_. 

As the ship sail out of the port, Louis tried to keep her in his view, so long that soon he could only see wisps of blonde hair catching the sun. And eventually she faded into the sky, smiling all the way, with Wahliya by her side, and not a care in the world. 

He wanted nothing more than her happiness, and it seemed like she had finally found it. 

At the price of her happiness though, came Louis’ tears. He cried into Harry’s chest once he was sure she wouldn’t be able to see him. He didn’t want his little sister to see him cry. Harry’s arms held him tightly, for as long as Louis needed him to. 

Beside him, Zayn and Doniya looked upset but prepared, as if the eventuality that they had predicted had finally come, and on its wings it carried their beloved Wahliya away, into the sea, as all things seemed to go in this world. It all returned, eventually, to the sea. 

In time Louis would return to the sea with his crew, and the ship would return to the sea. But eventually, the ship would sink into the ocean, and return from whence it came, and with it –Louis decided- he would to. In good time all would return, and Louis did not deserve to cheat that fate. 

They walked back into town slowly and sombrely, as if all the life had been sucked out of them for a moment. He felt like one of Harry’s skeletons, except he felt _so much_. He was so happy to see the sister he adored so dearly like that, strong and joyous, but he also knew that she was no longer his to care for, and love. He had spent so much of his life following after her, making sure she was okay, and now he couldn’t, and more importantly she didn’t need him to. Louis loved her so, but it was hard to see her sail out of his reach. 

Harry held him close as they walked away. Even in the busy streets, where people who would know him could see. He was letting them see him and Louis. Louis, his cabin boy, who he held close to his heart as they walked clearly together. Finally, Louis was not his shame, but rather his triumph. Finally, Louis was more than a secret, and rather something to be held proudly through the streets. 

Beside him, Liam held Zayn in a similar way, and it all came together. Zayn and Liam were everything that Louis thought was love, and now he and Harry looked the same, except for a little piece of metal on Zayn’s finger. Finally, he and Harry were love in their own right. They were confidently there, and proud to be in love with each other. 

The busy streets held markets with large wooden carts and the bustle of people like no other, and yet Harry held him. Not just by the hand, but around the waist and close, as if no skin was too much skin to touch. His hat shielded Louis’ eyes under its wide brim and his overcoat warmed Louis’ bare skin. 

“You’re holding me,” Louis said, just loud enough for only Harry to hear, “in public.” 

Harry looked at him for a moment, the way a child looked at a parent, or an adult looked to a painting of god. With complete and utter adoration. He looked down physically, but there was no sense of ownership or leadership. Harry did not own him in any right. They were partners. The very proudest of partners, who said _I love you_ and held each other in the light of day. Harry looked proud to be Louis’, and Louis looked proud to be his. There was something suddenly magical in their air. 

Harry pulled him in even closer as they came to a stop, and for a while he said nothing, just looked at Louis with adoration in his eyes. He grabbed Louis by both shoulders to force him to look into his eyes, and once they’d stared at each other for long enough, he finally said, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: Comments make me really happy :) <3


	10. 2.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: In an effort to stick with the historical context of this piece, as well as conditions on pirate ships there is BREIF mention of PREGNANT PEOPLE DRINKING ALCOHOL. 
> 
> IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SKIP THIS: You can skip the paragraph beginning with "Gemma returned with slop again" near the beginning of this chapter. IT WILL MAKE NO DIFFERENCE TO THE STORY LINE. 
> 
> Sorry for the caps lock, but I don't want people to accidentally read anything that makes them uncomfortable.

Louis found himself sitting on the deck one afternoon in mid-April, when the sun was high in the sky, beating down to the hot and sticky crew of _The Rose_. He had stripped down to just a dirty cotton shirt, a little bit too big for him (although not big enough for him to be sure it was Harry’s. Perhaps it had been Zayn’s), and a pair of pants which were still too hot despite their airy linen fabric. His hair was stuck to his forehead in large chunks, greasy and sweaty and itchy. When he scrubbed a hand over his face to wipe some of the sweat off his brow, he often came back with dirt and grim mixed in.

 

They’d been at sea for nearly six weeks straight with not so much as the idea of land in the same amount of time. Louis desperately wanted to be able to wash himself off, and drink fresh water, and eat food that hadn’t been rotting for weeks in their damp gally.

 

Heat had penetrated every board that made up the sides of the ship, and cast a damp heat through every inch of it. Even the usually shady sleeping quarters were too hot to inhabit for even a moment longer than one had to. The canon bay, with its metal canons only provided a moment of relief before the metal would heat up with one’s body heat and begin to cook the inhabitant slowly and painfully. Louis was beginning to feel like a piece of meat, prepared every which way.

 

Zayn, who sat silently beside him, had stripped himself of any top, instead choosing to sit on the sweltering deck in only a pair of snakeskin trousers –which he insisted were cooler than linen. He sat with a piece of Liam’s clothing in his fingers and a needle between his teeth, dutifully sewing up a hole that Liam had ripped through it when it caught on a hook in the canon bay –not that he would need the heavy cotton shirt any time soon. Louis, who had thought that he had some handle on sewing from the years of watching his mother and sisters, had offered a total of three stitches to the project (of which each took a full minute to complete).

 

Instead, Louis had busied himself with course plotting, or rather recording because Harry would not divulge where they were headed, and had not since they had left Tortuga. From the map spread out in front of him, they’d been heading north for the last six weeks, but it seemed like every time they ran into a ship, the course had changed slightly. They were looking for something. Or someone. That much Louis could tell without being told.

 

He also knew that across the gangplank, which had been laid carefully between _The Rose_ and the ship of Harry’s friend, Harry was certainly changing their course once more.

 

The other ship, which had approached them at daybreak, was smaller than _The_ Rose with a decidedly smaller crew, but just as well kept, and flew a flag that looked suspiciously like a black Union Jack. There had been little fuss when it was spotted on the horizon that morning –although Louis had been awakened rather rudely from a very comfortable place on Harry’s chest by the announcement of its pending arrival. Harry had pushed him off as nicely as possible before readying himself to meet his old friend –well, as old as a friend can be to a man not yet 26 years old.

 

Merrily enough the two ships had dropped anchor next to each other, and Harry had proceeded to greet an equally young looking captain with a side smile and solid hug. The image of their matching captain’s jackets and hats embracing was one Louis was still bewildered by. He had known that captains would need to have friends on other ships, but it had never struck him that other captains could be friendly enough to hug each other upon reuniting.  

 

Almost immediately after, Liam and Niall had come bounding towards the other captain, throwing their arms around him as if they had known him forever. Perhaps they had. Louis began to suspect that they had sailed together on _The Mary_. He had never gotten an answer though, because Harry had quickly hurried the four of them into the captain’s quarters of the other ship, already deep in conversation with the other captain.

 

That had been the last that Louis had seen of Harry for the rest of the day. He’d given up any hope of seeing him before evening when Gemma had come to him and Zayn with metal plate full of some awful slop made of the least rotten things in the gally. She’d settled down with them for lunch, but the three of them hadn’t spoken because the heat had dried out their mouths and it seemed to use too much energy to speak at all. Around Louis the ship was the same: silent, with every crewmember in some state of undress, praying from even the lightest of breezes to bless them with some coolness.

 

Zayn finally put down his sewing, instead favouring admiring his ring, which had adorned his finger for the past six weeks officially, glittering in the hot sun each time he so much as moved his finger an inch. Each time Zayn stopped to marvel at it, Louis pushed down a jolting pang of jealousy. He was happy for Zayn, truly he was, but it didn’t help that he had to stare at the beautiful ring every moment of his day while he waited patiently –not so patiently- for one of his own.

 

Sick of staring at a map with no semblance of a clue where they were headed, Louis turned away –not that there was all that much to see in the other direction. Behind them, the open sea was calm and clear tinged with green, as if someone had tossed a sheet of dress fabric across it. Even though Louis had expected it, it was still disconcerting to look out into nothing but water, for miles and miles.

 

For the last month and a half Louis had felt increasingly like he was drowning. Surrounded by nothing but water for as far as the eye could see, Louis had begun to feel as if the ocean mist was strangling him as it rose from the never-ending sea. He just wanted to see dry land, even if it was just in the distance. No matter how long he lived at sea –okay, maybe only 5 months- he could not come to terms with the idea that he could be far enough away from land that he would have no hope of swimming to shore if something were to happen to the ship. Anxiety still crept up his throat every time he thought about the prospect.

 

Soon, the sun was sinking into the ceaseless ocean, drowned with no land to save it. Louis realized that he’d been staring at the same map for nearly ten hours and done nothing of real value. Beside him, he had a journal page scribbled with locations and ports and landmarks to find his bearings, but with no set destination all his work was useless. At least Zayn had sewn up a hole in a shirt.

 

Exasperatedly, Louis threw himself back onto the deck. He could see the stars coming into view slowly but surely as the burning pink of twilight gave way to night. Louis was used to the sounds of crickets at night, having grown up in the islands his whole life, and often on the ship they could be heard –if they were close enough to land- but out there, in the middle of the ocean, Louis heard only the sounds of the crew around him.

 

Gemma returned with slop again, setting the same dirty metal plate in front of Louis with the same putrid grey mess splashed across it and a mug of watered down whisky in front of him. They were running out of alcohol, and even if Harry insisted that he pretend they weren’t, so as not to upset the rest of the crew, they were running out fast. They would have to stop soon, else they faced a mutiny. They _had_ to stop soon. _Please god, let them stop soon._

 

When Gemma had settled in across from him, eating the tiniest piece of mouldy bread, Louis uttered the very first words he had spoken all day, “What are they taking so long with anyways?” he asked, figuring that if anyone was going to know what was going on, it would be Gemma.  

 

Gemma set down her mug with a thud and looked at Louis with a face full of disbelief, “you mean even you don’t know?”

 

Louis paused, eyebrows drawing down his face, “ _You_ don’t know?” he asked incredulously. Did that mean that Harry hadn’t told anyone where they were headed? Well, he must have told Niall and Liam, if they were in the captain’s quarters with him, but he couldn’t have only told two people? Louis quickly realized that the only other person who would be trusted with that sort of information was sitting right next to him. “Zayn, do you know anything?”

 

Zayn shook his head, “just that we need information, and Josh has it.” Louis assumed that the other captain was Josh. Information, for what? Was that why they kept changing course? Harry was collecting information on whatever it was they were looking for. Hopefully, he would find whatever it was he needed so they could finally _rest._

 

Louis decided not to push any further. No one but the men on the other ship with Josh knew where they were going, who they were looking for and how long it would be before they could finally see land again.

 

Night had taken full control of the sky by the time Harry emerged from Josh’s ship. In the burning light of a torch set next to the captain’s quarters door, Louis could see a smile bursting across his face and a scroll rolled tightly in his hand. He and the others shook Josh’s hand along with two other pirates who had been in the meeting as well. Everyone looked very happy with whatever deal they had struck.

 

Before Harry stepped onto the gangplank, still precariously placed between the two decks, he withdrew a small purse from somewhere in his jacket and handed the mulberry pouch to Josh with a nod of his head. Louis couldn’t help but wonder how much the scroll he was carrying had cost him. Nevertheless he looked happy, and that was all Louis could have hoped for.

 

He looked so happy in fact that the moment Harry had cross the plank safely he rushed right to Louis, bending over almost completely to grab both of Louis’ cheeks and press his lips firmly against Louis’. He pulled Louis to his feet without disconnecting their lips, and he seemed to have no intention to disconnect any time soon.

 

He walked the two of them back towards his quarters without taking any notice of anyone around them. Louis kind of hoped that they didn’t accidentally step on anyone on their way.

 

Eventually Harry pushed them through the door and slammed it shut with the force at which he pressed Louis’ body against it. They stayed there for a while: with Harry’s hand still holding on tightly to the scroll, but holding Louis’ hips with equal fervour.

 

After so long that Louis’ back was beginning to hurt, Harry pulled away with a small smile still pinned to his lips. Without so much as a word, he went digging in the pockets affixed to the lining of his jacket and produced a small key from the depths of one. He turned away from Louis to unlock a little drawer on the desk to his left and proceeded to lock the scroll in it before standing up again and looking at Louis straight on. “I’m not locking it from you” he said quickly before Louis even had the opportunity to think about it, “It’s just that there are men on this ship I don’t trust as much as I trust you.” He placed a careful smile on his face.

 

Louis wasn’t dumb. He knew that that was some convoluted way to try and stop Louis from trying to open the drawer. If he knew that Harry _would_ trust him with the scroll, just couldn’t trust others, he wouldn’t try to open it. When in all honesty, it didn’t matter if the drawer was locked because of Louis or from everyone else, it was still locked, and Harry still had the key. He was still keeping a secret from him.

 

‘What was today about?” Louis asked innocently, eyes wide as if he had no clue that Harry was purposely keeping it from him. He prayed to God that Harry thought he was truly stupid and not pulling one over on him.

 

“Just a meeting with an old friend,” Harry shrugged, “I sailed with Josh as a kid.” _Fuck him_ , Louis thought. Did he really think that Louis was so dumb that he would believe that Harry was having a nice catch up with an old friend for nearly twelve hours?

 

“Hmm” Louis mused, “I would have liked to meet him.” Because if it were only catching up, one would think that you would introduce the boy you’re in love with to your old friend.

 

Harry shrugged as if there was no tension building in the air, “it was mostly reminiscing,” he reasoned, “I thought you’d be bored by it.”

 

“Well, I don’t know all that much about your time before I met you,” he pressed on, “I might have wanted to hear it.” There was something between them now, building and clouding the space that separated them. This was a challenge, and it would inevitably lead to a blow up of sorts.

 

Harry didn’t seem to see it, though. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap, “What do you want to know?”

 

Louis was meant to be getting information out of Harry about their mission of sorts, not _The Mary._ But he was still itching to know. ‘What was it like?” burst from his lips before he could strategize any further.

 

Harry shrugged, as if trying to dig up some semblance of an answer that meant anything. “Worse than this.” Was all he said for a while, not meeting Louis’ eyes as he spoke. Then Louis realized that Harry was beginning to feel the effects of their long sail as well. “Cowell had business overseas, so we spent months at sea, starving and thirsty. Men used to just collapse on those trips” He spoke the last sentence with distance and disbelief, as if he were seeing it again. “Liam, Niall and I were the youngest, so we got stuck with the worst jobs, but Cowell didn’t take a liking to any of us, so it could have been worse.” Louis could understand the meaning of _“took a liking to”_ without being told.

 

“That’s why you-“ _didn’t want people to think you were fucking me against my will._

“Yeah”

 

A silence fell over them.

 

“Where are we going, Harry?” Louis asked finally.

 

Harry took a breath before answering. “To kill someone.”

 

A breath caught in Louis throat. Harry had slipped out of himself again. Suddenly, it felt as if they were in the bar again, the very first time. There Harry was, with a gun pressed to the head of another man, with nothing behind his eyes and no energy in his fingertips. There, Louis could see only the bones of the man he loved, but none of the heart. Suddenly, they were back on the deck, that very first day. Harry’s flippant hand gesture when he finished with Barbara. I’m done. _Toss the rest, no need for extra blood on this deck._ Louis’ ears felt as if they were underwater. He could hear his own heartbeat. Without knowing that he had said it, “Who?” fell off of his tongue and onto the floor.

 

“Can’t tell you that,” Harry bit.

 

Louis tried to calm his heartbeat as it beat out of his chest. He feared that maybe Harry could feel it as well, as it beat through his feet and shook the floor. He hadn’t realized that he was holding the doorframe until his fingernails started to hurt from digging into the wood. His back was still pressed to the door, and he realized that subconsciously, he was trying to get away from Harry. “This has something to do with that meeting you had with Zayn’s father on Tortuga, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Harry said. Or, maybe not Harry. The man sitting on Harry’s bed was not the man that Louis loved, but rather the captain of a pirate ship, with brutality and violence in his bones. This was Captain Styles.

 

“And today’s meeting has given you the information you need to kill them?” Louis tried to wipe his own voice of emotion.

 

“Yes,” Captain Styles replied.

 

“And that’s why we haven’t stopped in six weeks?”

 

“Yes,” Captain Styles replied.

 

“Will we find them soon?”

 

“Yes,” Captain Styles replied.

 

“When?” Louis asked finally, voice cracking around his final question. He couldn’t do it anymore. He needed to know how much longer he would have to suffer. Before Harry could speak, Louis sent a silent prayer up to however might be answering teenage homosexual pirates’ prayers that Harry’s answer would be _soon_.

 

“A couple days sail, if Josh was right.” Some semblance of Harry seemed to flood back into his face, returning the colours of life and replacing the thick lines knitted into his forehead with the freeness that a man as young as Harry should have had. His muscles seemed to visibly release his bones.

 

Louis felt as if vomit might flood his throat, but instead words seemed to force his lips open, “Why do you need to kill them?” he couldn’t help but ask, “Is it for Malik?”

 

Louis knew that Yaser Malik was ruthless, at least somewhere in his memory. He had heard the stories of The Greatest Pirate in the Persian Gulf and his many tirades, but something about Zayn and Doniya and the little that he knew about Waliyha that made him want to ignore it all. Zayn was so kind and too reserved to have been raised by a pirate with an agenda that involved murdering people at will. Although, that was piracy, wasn’t it? Louis had seen Harry kill people.

 

“He doesn’t deserve to live,” Harry gritted out, avoiding the question. He still wouldn’t look Louis in the eye. That meant that it did have something to do with Malik, but the way Harry spoke about him –whoever he was- made it seem like Harry had some stake in it as well.

 

“And what will you do when we find him?”

 

Harry’s eyes seemed to go dark, “Spill his blood across my deck so that he bleeds into each plank, so that each day I may remind myself that _I overtook him_ ,” he paused, “But before I do, I will tell him that _Harry Styles_ would finish him, so that he will know –in his final moments- who had the last say in his life” His mouth snapped at each of his own words. He was in his own head, wrapped up in his own vicious thoughts. “And then,” he began again, meeting Louis’ eyes finally. Something was off in his smile; something wicked had fallen upon him “We’ll feast on everything he ever owned.”

 

Harry’s smile was doing something to Louis’ stomach. He felt queasy, and it wasn’t seasickness. “And his crew?” Louis asked, trying his best to hide the fear crawling out of his stomach and flooding his fingertips and toes.

 

“We’ll see.” Harry smiled to himself.

 

“And when it’s finished?”

 

“We’ll live like Kings,” Harry looked genuine for the first time in the entire night, “and we’ll focus on getting pregnant, and having a baby, and all will be well.”

 

Louis froze. His stomach dropped, and suddenly he felt as if he had been nailed to the floor. It wasn’t so much that he’d been _keeping_ it from Harry, more that he just hadn’t had the chance to tell him. And it had only been a few day since he had realized it either, so he couldn’t be blamed for it, could he? Harry wouldn’t be mad, would he? In his state he might be. _Fuck._

“I think –I think I’m going to l-let you cool down, yeah?” he stuttered out. This was _not_ a good time to spill that he was pregnant. Sweat dripped from his palms and he felt like ice was freezing up in fractals around his fingertips. _He was going to throw up._

 

Rushing out of the room, and shutting the door behind him so that Harry wouldn’t see, he ran to the edge of the ship just before his dinner burst from his stomach (looking disconcertingly like it had when he swallowed it in the first place).

 

“Morning sickness?” a familiar voice asked from behind him. As Louis turned he caught the glittering eyes of Zayn as he sat in the place that Louis had left him in. He’d long since cast aside his sewing, favouring a look at the sky instead.

 

Louis braced himself against the side of the ship, breathing heavily as he caught up with the moment. “I don’t know if it counts when it isn’t in the morning,” he replied in between gulps of air.

 

The wind was flowing through the ship, lightly but certainly more than Louis had become used to. It was a welcome change as it ruffled his now scruffy hair. Above him, stars shone like nowhere else on earth. It was as if they went on forever, always one more layer of twinkling stardust past the last one. Louis finally felt steady.

 

“Was that the baby throwing up, or was it you?” Zayn inquired, because of course he would know there was something off with him. Zayn was the only one on the ship who knew that Louis was pregnant, and only because Louis had come to him in a flurry of distress when he had realized it not more than a week ago and had to console him until Louis got him breathing under control again.

 

“Me,” Louis divulged, “I think,” he added quickly afterwards –it could have been a combination of both.

 

“You want to tell me why? Or are you going to be cryptic about it and have me guess?” Zayn told him in classic Zayn fashion.

 

“We’re going to murder someone.” Louis told him shortly, “And your father has sent Harry to do it, but Harry also seems to want to do it. And he said that once he’s done it we can focus on getting pregnant which is a little bit of a problem.” He finished by motioning to his completely flat stomach as if it would mean anything.

 

Zayn seemed to ponder that for a moment, looking up at the star again and surely thinking deeply about something –whether that was Louis’ predicament, he wasn’t sure. “Why can’t you just tell him?” was Zayn’s _fantastic_ response.

 

Louis kind of wanted to hit Zayn over the head. He couldn’t just tell Harry that when he was in such a crazy, death-hunt mood! Harry wasn’t himself; he wouldn’t take the news as well as he could. “I’ll tell him once we’ve done it.”

 

“It?” Zayn asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

 

Louis threw his hands up in the air, “The killing, you idiot!”

 

“Oh” Zayn replied, seemingly dumbfounded.

 

Just as Louis was about to open his mouth again, probably to say some witty remark about how they didn’t call Zayn the smart one or something equally doltish, Liam emerged from below deck. He took one look around before his eyes fell on Louis and his face went stony.

 

Liam hadn’t spoken to Louis since their final altercation nearly six weeks ago. Each time he saw Louis on the ship, he’d tense and turn away but flex his muscles and seemingly prepare himself for a fight. It got especially bad whenever Louis got close to Zayn –which mind you, was quite often. He’d always get aggressively protective of Zayn, like a mother protecting its cub –how ever strange a parallel that was. He’d gather Zayn up in his arms and stare Louis down as if to say _don’t go near what is mine._

 

He did just the same then. He picked Zayn up off the deck and held him tight to his chest –deliberately away from Louis. His eyes narrowed and hardened as he looked down at Louis. His height was easily intimidating in and of itself as he stood nearly half a foot taller than Louis’ short stature, but the added intensity of Liam’s aggressive behavior had Louis wanting to run away with his tail between his legs.

 

Instead of pouncing of Louis, as if he had almost expected he would, Liam looked at Zayn with a pointedly kind smile, a clear challenge for Zayn’s affections. “We should get you to bed, shouldn’t we?” Liam offered, speaking down to Zayn in a way that set Louis’ teeth on edge. Zayn didn’t seem put off by it at all, instead preening at the affection, burying his face into Liam’s shirt with a pleasant smile. His own hands came to hold onto Liam’s where they rested across his chest, ring shining like a punch in the face to Louis.

 

“Probably,” Zayn nodded. Without so much as a look, the two turned away from Louis, walking towards the stairs with facetious disregard for Louis’ issues or existence. Just as the two were about to make their collective first step down the stairs Zayn turned just slightly towards him to let out a quick and detached “Goodnight Louis.”

 

It wasn’t so much that Louis felt threatened by Liam; they served very different purposes in Zayn’s life. It was just that Louis knew that Liam was more important and if it came down to him having to pick a side, he would pick Liam. And if he did, Louis would lose his best friend.

 

He stayed out there a while longer, enjoying the steady rock of the ship as they sailed over calm nighttime waves and the all-consuming blackness of night. He hoped that it was having the same calming effect on Harry as it was on himself.

 

There was a single torch lit on the ship, illuminating the door to the captain’s quarters but floated up to the ship’s wheel where the night Sailing Master stood with his hands on the wheel, giving Louis a careful smile.

 

Louis had known –at least subconsciously- that he wasn’t alone with Zayn on the deck, but the smile had confirmed his worst fear: that he had heard. He seemed unfazed by Louis’ admission though, instead deciding to turn back to look at the horizon as if Louis didn’t exist at all. His presence still made Louis uneasy.

 

***

 

Louis awoke the next morning alone. Not that he was surprised: Harry was rarely around when he woke up those days. The other side of the bed was cold. Louis rolled onto his back and let out a sigh. He sat there for a while longer than he should have, staring up at the now familiar wooden ceiling as it creaked and bent under the weight of crewmembers above him.

 

“Oi!” He heard above him, with a sense of distress that made Louis’ stomach feel uneasy. The ship rocked heavily to the left, as if it were turning full around, them violently back to the right as whoever was controlling the stern pulled back from the brink of what felt like capsizing. Louis felt queasy again.

 

Without being able to think about the fact that Harry was surely outside and would see him throw up, Louis found himself spitting waves of vomit over the edge of the ship within seconds. The constant undulation of the ship didn’t help as he tried to project his sickness into the sea. Afterwards he braced himself against the railing, catching what little breath there was to find in the muggy heat.

 

Louis heard someone clamber down the steps, and he half-hoped that he didn’t know what Harry’s footstep sounded like. Unfortunately, Louis knew the sound of Harry’s feet better than he knew his own and Harry’s hands were on his hips to steady him within moments. It wasn’t the help Louis didn’t want, but rather that he didn’t want to answer the impending question that only Harry would bother to ask.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, genuine concern coursing through his words.

 

Louis could only nod. “Just a bit seasick is all,” he defended weakly. Under normal circumstances, Harry probably would have caught him in his lie, but the captain was so busy with his chase that he didn’t have the brainpower to pick up on the subtle nuances of Louis’ body language. Even if he had, the last thing on his mind was a baby at the moment, so it wasn’t as if he would guess that it was morning sickness. It was entirely feasible that the sudden movement of the boat had caused his sickness. Except that he had never gotten sick in the entirety of the time he had been on the ship.

 

“You sure?” Harry pushed further. _Shut up,_ Louis wanted to spit at him. Louis nodded solemnly, and without a word Harry led him back to his bed where he tucked him in with a kiss on the forehead and a promise to return later to check on him. Louis kind of wanted to throw up again.

 

He didn’t throw up, but within a couple of minutes Louis was dead bored. There was only so much to be stared at on the ceiling of the room. Looking around the room, Louis’ eyes fell on the desk. More specifically a singular locked drawer. He knew that he shouldn’t even think about it: because relationships were built on trust, and he’d be violating Harry’s trust if he went searching through his stuff. But Louis was young, and not much for thinking of the consequences of things.

 

The desk was fairly empty. It housed a nearly empty ink pot and a quill so stained with ink that it was hard to tell that it was once a white feather. A few scattered papers filled most of the space: ripped out journal entries because Louis had messed up or reports now obsolete. Most importantly, the desk housed the vase with what were now the husks of roses. A month at sea had not been kind to the flowers.

 

Carefully, Louis shifted the dead flowers away from the drawer. Sometime in the past month their vase must have leaked, because a dark brown stain marked where they once had been. Outside, a man yelled something undistinguishable and Louis stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t get caught.

 

Quietly as he possibly could, Louis took an experimental tug at the drawer, just in case Harry had somehow made the rather unfortunate mistake of not locking up whatever it was that he found so vital to keep locked up, away from Louis. Harry was too smart for that anyways, so Louis couldn’t be surprised when he found that it was sealed shut. He jimmied it again. Nothing.

 

What could be so important in the first place? Louis had seen the scroll himself and it couldn’t have been more than a page in a book, perhaps ripped out of a journal. It wasn’t money or riches, but simply information. If Louis knew anything about ships and hunting down other ships, the piece of paper held the schedule of whatever ship they were hunting down. It wouldn’t be all that special information, seeing as Louis had known they were heading north towards Nassau for weeks. What else could need to be kept a secret? Unless- Louis didn’t want to think about that.

 

Instead, he busied himself with finding something to pick the lock with. He’d never actually picked a lock in his life, but he’d seen Zayn do it on one of the escapades on St. Kitts a few months before. Although it seemed incredibly difficult, Louis figured he was bright enough to figure it out. His eyes fell upon a brooch with a rather long pin attached to the end of it, still affixed to one of Harry’s jackets. It was made of polished silver and shaped like a dragon, with fiery eyes made from glittering rubies. It was perfect for Louis’ lock picking venture. He pulled it from Harry’s coat roughly before pushing it into the lock. He hadn’t any clue what to do with it once it was in there, but he moved it around and stuck it in further until it seemed to hit on something.

 

Just as he was about to try to move the lock, there was a light knock on the door. Without thinking Louis yelled, “just a minute!” before pressing the brooch to his own shirt. He didn’t think to move anywhere, so he stood by the desk as Harry pushed his way into the room.

 

“I brought you some water,” Harry started, looking down at the mug in his hand rather than Louis, “there isn’t all that much to spare but it got you all we could. I figured out would want to wash the taste out of your mouth-” then he looked up, “what are you doing?”

 

Louis froze. “I was, um,” he stuttered, “trying on your brooch!” he said a little too excitedly when he hit on something that made any semblance of sense. “I hope you don’t mind, it’s just so pretty and I couldn’t help but just try it on. I was going to put it back, I swear!”

 

Harry just shook his head, a little smile creeping across his face. “You can keep it,” he said before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Louis, out of fear of awkwardness, took a seat next to him. After a few sips of the water –stale and tasting of something not right- he turned to see Harry staring at the desk. “My roses have been moved,” he stated without having to tell Louis that he was rather asking _why have my roses been moved._

 

“I was just wondering about them,” Louis said automatically.

 

“What do you mean?” Harry’s head snapped towards Louis.

 

“Well, you’ve never told me why you keep them” Louis reasoned. By the way Harry looked at Louis, he didn’t want to answer.

 

Instead of changing the subject or simply ignoring Louis, as he’d expected Harry would, he took a deep breath as he prepared to divulge the story. “They were the last thing I had of my mother.

 

“I hadn’t been home in nearly four years, and finally I had my own ship and my own crew, and enough supplies to last us the trip. I was so happy to get to see them: mum and Gemma, I remember I was giddy for weeks leading up to it. I remember wanting to jump into the Thames as we sailed into it just so I could get to them faster. But when I arrived, the door was open. And I should have known then that something was wrong, _I should have know, I should have known._ ” Harry grabbed the sides of his head as he repeated the last phrase, seemingly tortured by it. “But I didn’t. I thought that perhaps my mother had started keeping the door open, because I’d been away so long that I couldn’t know.

 

“I found Gemma on the floor not three feet inside. She, uh, they hadn’t been good to her” he paused then, and Louis knew what had happened to her without Harry having to tell him. _God,_ he didn’t want Harry to tell him, “She was crying and bleeding. I’d never seen her so out of sorts. That was when I realized that the house was a mess. Everything was all over the place: papers all of the floor and broken glass everywhere. The only thing that was unharmed was a single vase on a table, filled with perfectly unharmed roses. I didn’t take any notice of them at the time, because all of a sudden Gemma was whispering ‘ _Mum’_ into the room and I knew something worse had happened than just Gemma.

 

“They’d shot my mum dead in her bedroom. Left her sitting up against her bed with blood pouring out of her head just to make sure I saw. That fucker was cocky enough to have told Gemma his name before he- _Troy Fucking Austin.”_

 

Then Louis remembered who had killed Harry’s mum. He wanted to throw up, or pass out, or cry, anything. The image of his own father blowing the brains out of an innocent woman make his stomach churn and set his teeth on edge at the same time. No matter how much Louis hated him –which was with every fiber in his body- that man was still his father, and some of his rancid blood pumped through Louis’ veins.

 

“How did they-?” Louis asked, not able to finish his own question.

 

“Know I would be there?” Harry confirmed, “Some bastard in my crew had been spying for them for months. He’d been feeding them copies of our schedule every time we landed in a port,” Harry chuckled in the same frightening way he had the night before, “I shot that man straight through so many times that they wouldn’t even be able to identify who he was if they dug him up from the bottom of the ocean.”  

 

The room went silent for a while. Neither of them had any hope of changing the heavy atmosphere settling around them. The room seemed like it had gone dark, like night had come early for them, enveloping them in a colour that reflected the way they both felt.

 

“I spent only a few moments looking at her, before I grabbed Gemma and those roses and left the house,” Harry started again, “That’s my biggest regret. Because I can’t remember her face anymore. I can see the outlines and the idea of her face, but I have no vivid memories of what she looked like.”

 

Harry looked as if he might fall apart completely in that moment. Any strong exterior he had put up now lay smash on the floor in front of them like broken eggshells. Carefully, Louis slid his arms around Harry’s waist, and eased his chin onto his shoulder. They still didn’t speak for a while. Louis just held him as they rocked back and forth with the force of the ship.

 

“Is tomorrow the day?” Louis asked eventually, voice high and nervous. Harry nodded. “Morning or afternoon?”

 

“Should be first thing in the morning, if our information was right” Harry told him, voice devoid of emotion. He’d wrapped his own arm around Louis’ waist, and was drawing small circles onto his hip. “I need you to stay in here for it. It shouldn’t be all that dangerous, they probably won’t even put up a fight, but just in case.”

 

Normally Louis would have argued adamantly that he deserved to be in the fight just as much as any other member of Harry’s crew, but it wasn’t only him that he had to worry about then. The baby couldn’t be in the fight, not if there was any possibility of it getting hurt. Even if Harry was right, and there wasn’t going to be much of an attack, he couldn’t risk it. He only nodded to Harry. “And Gemma?” he asked, knowing that Gemma couldn’t be anywhere near the fight, and probably needed someone with her.

 

“She’s going to stay below deck. I can’t have her anywhere near these bastards.”

 

Louis couldn’t help but wonder why Harry wanted Louis above deck for the attack. Wouldn’t it be safer downstairs in the sleeping quarters? He decided it best not to ask.

 

“And once it’s over?”

 

Harry sighed, “We’ll land in Nassau. I figure we can all take a week or so there, enjoy the spoils of war,” he chuckled. “Fresh water, and fresh food. Won’t that be nice, Lou?”

 

“Sound’s lovely.”

 

They held each other for a little while longer, until Harry was called back out to check on something or other in the canon bay. Louis stayed in bed for a while alone, with the quilt pulled up to his chin. He didn’t have any desire to break into the drawer after that. Looking back, Louis thinks it was because he already knew, at least in some capacity, who they were searching for.

 

***

 

Louis had almost expected to awake to a full-blown battle. Instead he was greeted by Niall shaking Harry awake next to him. There was little urgency in his voice as he explained that the other ship had come into view. A strange, almost morbid silence settled over the room as Harry only nodded. He pulled his coat on over a silk shirt and pressed his hat over his long head of curls, then reaching down to his collarbones from months without cutting them.

 

“Get dressed Lou,” Harry commanded as he prepared to leave the room. Louis expected him to say that he had to be ready, just in case, but instead a wicked smile flooded Harry’s face and he only proclaimed, “We dress well to meet the dead.”

 

He was so confident, and while it frightened Louis, it made him love him even more. Harry knew what he had to do, and how to do it. He had prepared, and suffered and led their crew through hell to get it, and finally his dream would come to fruition. Louis never thought he would be happy about a man being killed but he was, for some reason, very pleased.

 

Before Harry left, Louis pressed a hard kiss to his lips. So hard that he could feel his teeth behind his lips. He held his face in his hands so that his stubble scratched up his hands, but still he held on. _Just in case,_ he repeated to himself over and over. No matter how confident Harry was, he was still human. He was still mortal, and vulnerable. One wrong move and- Louis didn’t want to think about that. _Just in case._

Then he got dressed, just as Harry had instructed him to. He pulled on one of the silk shirts Harry had bought for him, with its soft fabric brushing over his skin. He couldn’t help but remember the days when this was all he wore. Nearly seventeen years of his life, spent among riches and comfortable clothes, and cold houses. He couldn’t find it in himself to miss it. Not if that meant that he would have to leave his crew. Not if it meant that he had to leave Zayn, or Niall, or Ed. Not even Liam, with his cold stares and protective behavior, as if Louis were a predator. Definitely not if it meant that he had to leave Harry, who he cared for so deeply. More deeply than he had ever known someone could love another person.

 

He couldn’t wish to return to his home now. Where he knew Lottie would not be. His mother was probably living her same life, sewing with other Navy ladies and drinking tea in weather too hot for it. She probably smiled still, with her worn out eyes. Behind them, Louis knew there was the pain of losing two children. Louis hoped that she knew it had never been her fault. He had not left because she loved him so, or because she had fought to keep him with the family for so much longer than any other mother would have, or even because she had married Louis’ father. He knew that she had done that for him too. Even before he was born, when she had discovered she was pregnant, she had married Louis’ father so that he wouldn’t grow up a bastard. Louis had never thanked her for that. He had never thanked her for any of it.

 

As he arranged his hair around the large hat sitting atop his head, he couldn’t help but wonder how Lottie was doing. She was probably on top of the world. She was probably sailing far away from him, to the other side of the world with the rest of the Malik fleet. Louis hoped that she was safe with her crew of older men. Briefly, he hoped that she wouldn’t fall in love with any of them before realizing that that was incredibly hypocritical. He hoped that she made friends like he had, and didn’t miss home too much. Finally, he hoped that he would see her soon, or hear from her, or about her. He hoped that he would know. He tried to remember her face, but found that she was just a blurry mess of white skin and blonde hair and blue eyes in his mind. He could see her smile in isolation, and her eyes by themselves, but every time he tried to assemble her face again his eyes seemed to cross from concentration and he would have to give up.

 

He heard Niall call that the ship was approaching with guns down above him. That was a good signed, wasn’t it? He couldn’t help but look out the window to get a look at the ship they had been chasing. Out the porthole above the bed Louis caught sight of a large ship, flying a Union Jack. Navy, then. Louis thought that something was strangely familiar about the ship, but he reminded himself that he had seen hundreds of Navy ships in his past, and they all looked the same. He tore his eyes away from the window.

 

Instead, he settled himself against the far wall, as far away as possible from any possible fighting, if it were to come to that. Finally, Louis understood why Harry hadn’t been too scared of a fight. Navy ships famously gave up their bounty to pirate ships, the cowards. And if they were approaching with guns down it was conceivable to think that they were doing the same thing.

 

Louis heard the loud splash of an anchor beside them. So they intended to surrender. There was the cocking of a pistol from above him. His men had not me for bounty, but rather blood. Then in quick succession, seven shot were fired from Louis’ side, accompanied by the yelp of the men on the other ship. Then their own anchor dropped.

 

“Where’s your Captain?” he heard Harry’s familiar drawl.

 

One scared man replied, and Louis could imagine the shaking boy stuttering out an answer as he stood in the same space as many of his now dead counterparts. “O-office, sir” he stuttered out.

 

Another shot went off. Louis shivered.

 

Then footsteps all above him as the crew surely stormed the other ship. Louis could only imagine the sort of choreographed way his men would search their way through the ship, killing anyone they deemed worthy of their bullet. No matter how much Louis loved them, they were still pirates, and they were still ruthless men.

 

The occasional gunshot echoed into the air, sometimes a scream. Louis waited for what seemed like hours for any sort of sign that they had killed their target. Perhaps a cheer, or maybe someone would go to get Louis. He didn’t know, but still he waited. He even waited for the canons to start up. He even waited to be blown to bits by a lucky shot. Nothing of the sort came.

 

Instead a slow procession moved their way back onto the ship, with not a word shard between them, no matter how much Louis listened, only silence.

 

The heavy boot steps of men marched onto the main deck, and Louis had no way of knowing whether these were his own men, or the enemy. A fear rose up in his stomach and he prayed to god that he wouldn’t throw up. Not even because of the baby. _Just one morning_ , he reasoned with it, despite the fact that he doubted the baby could hear his thoughts.

 

“Get Louis.” he heard Harry say to one of his men. At least he was alive. That was all Louis could hope for.

 

The door swung open with a huge effort, hitting the wall where Louis’ hammock used to be. In the door frame, Niall stood with a sombre expression on his face, and Louis feared the worst. Was someone he loved dead? But instead of thinking about it any further, he got up from the floor and approached the doorframe.

 

There on his knees, with his hands tied with a coarse rope behind his back was Louis’ father.

 

For a brief moment Louis panicked. He had been conditioned to care for this man, to love him even, and now he was tied up and about to be killed. For a moment, he wanted to rescue him, or tell Harry to call it all off and send him on his merry way. Then, Louis caught sight of Harry.

 

He didn’t look as Louis had expected. The wicked glint in his eyes was gone and the little smile on his face non-existent. He looked almost sad. Louis realized that when harry looked at his father, he saw his mother. That man was the only thing connecting is mother to the world still –excluding her own children. Surely having him at his knees brought up memories he didn’t wish too revisit. He looked at Louis as if to say, _“this is your chance.”_

 

Louis steeled himself. He had only a few minutes to get out what would be all he had ever wanted to say to him. “Father,” he approached.

 

“Louis!” his father exclaimed, voice full of desperation. Then, Louis realized that his father thought he was going to spare him. Oh, how he was wrong.

 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he nearly joked, “I heard that you started hitting my sisters.”

 

Louis’ father blanched, “They aren’t –they aren’t your sisters, Louis”

 

Louis nearly laughed out loud. What a silly man. What idiot decided that the best time to prove his point was when he was at the mercy of men who intended to kill him? Louis was half tempted to grab the gun that Niall had been offering and blow his brains out right there, but instead he decided to bide his time.

 

“You are going to shut up, lest I kill you right now,” he warned. It was disconcerting to see his father at his own mercy. Never in his life had he wielded such power over the man. He had spent so many years bending to his will, allowing himself to be thrown around by this man, and finally he had the chance to say everything he had ever wanted to yell. He stood with no fear in his breath, above his father. Finally, he was the one who would look down on _him._ “I know why you hated me, that was never a question in my mind as a child. You thought I was some freak of nature, something to be disposed of. I know how you felt when Mum begged to keep me until I was old enough to marry. I know why you didn’t love my sisters or my mother and I know why you spent so many years hitting me and screaming at me. What I don’t know if why you ever believed you would win.” Louis took a deep breath, “Didn’t you know that one day we would outnumber you?”

 

Troy opened his mouth to speak, but one of the men guarding him kicked him in the ribs to shut him up.

 

“I know that you dreamed that you would have a child to teach your trade, to sail with and train with. But you let your own vision of who that child would be cloud what could have been. I can sail now. No thanks to you. I can also fight, and drink and steal. I’m a pirate, father, how does that make you feel? To have your own child become the exact opposite of yourself. Or maybe what you masquerade to be. Truly you’re a murderer, and an evil man. You deserve no sympathy, and here you will find none.” The power was exhilarating. Louis could barely catch his breath as he spoke.

 

“I spent too long at your mercy. And now you will die at mine.” He felt his own wicked smile flash across his face. “Do you have anything you would like to say?” he asked as he took the gun from Niall. It was heavy in his hand, and the welded detail along the barely felt rough against his skin. He turned in his fingers, examining each gilded swirl.

 

“I never meant to hurt you Louis. I only did what I thought was best for you” his father pleaded. Louis’ finger hooked around the trigger. “Carriers need special teaching, in order to understand their role. I only wanted for you to be a proper member of society, despite this little hiccup.”

 

“My role will be whatever I feel it should,” Louis gritted through his teeth. “I will do what I please. I don’t wish to be in your _society_ if it means that I will become anything like you.”

 

“Please, Louis” he begged again as one of the men tugged on his hands, bringing him up.

 

“What did you ever do in my interest, huh?” He began again, this time pacing back and forth in some frivolous show of casualty. “Was practically disowning me from the moment you found out that I could carry a child in my interest? Was attempting to marry me off at only sixteen in my own interest? Was beating me at your will in my interest?” Louis could feel himself fuming as he spat the words at his father. “And what about all the crew members and Navy men who forced me into things? Did you know about that?”

 

Finally it was out in the open and he could feel the air go cold. He had barely realized that he had said it to every single one of his men. Now they all knew. In front of him, he caught Harry’s eye and he looked so sad. Louis wondered if he was still sad because of Louis’ father, or if he was now upset for Louis. Silence had fallen uncomfortably over the crowd and Louis almost wanted to throw up.

 

He took a step back. He had finished all he had to say. Still looking his father dead in the eye, he waited for his response. The gun was still heavy in his fingers, and he toyed with the idea of raising it. Could be really blow his own father’s brains out? Even if he had done so much evil, even if he was so awful, he was still Louis’ father. Could he bear that blood on his hands?

 

“Yes” his father whispered.

 

A gunshot went off and Troy Austin fell to the floor, eyes still wide open and mouth still open. He bled from his head into a dark pool until he would have been drowning in it.

 

Behind Louis, Liam brought down his gun, still smoking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of your comments are so lovely and I appreciate every single one of them!


	11. 3.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many things I want to write but I also can't update more than once a month on my existing fics so...

Louis didn’t stay to watch them throw his father’s body off the side of the ship. He didn’t watch him sink from the porthole, and he didn’t listen to the sound of his body hitting the side of the boat with bone crushing strength. He didn’t take a chance to walk through the now empty Naval ship. He didn’t collect his rightful bounty. He didn’t help shoot the ship until it sank. Instead, Louis returned to his bedroom and burrowed into the blankets into he forgot that he was on a ship and could pretend he was at home with his mummy and his sisters.

 

He felt like he should have been celebrating with his crew. After all that man had done to him, shouldn’t he have been jumping for joy at his demise? The crushing feeling in his chest and the tightening of his stomach told a different story. He wanted to be happy, but his father was dead, and there was no way to put it that didn’t hurt. They always say that you can’t remember pain, and it seemed that every time Louis had ever hurt at his father’s hand had melted away and all that was left were the embraces and the few lovely interactions they had shared.

 

It felt as if the earth had slipped off its axis. The boat rocked heavily the side as it glided through the ink black water of night. Louis refused to look out the window, but when he imagined the view, water seemed stained with red. He burrowed further into his blankets.

 

They were due into Nassau the next morning; Louis had been tracking their course for weeks. Only that morning, he had been overjoyed to finally see land again, to feel sand between his toes and not feel the unsteady sway of a ship for a little while. He’d been looking forward to drinking fresh water and enjoying the shade of trees away from the harsh open skies above the sea.

 

He’d been excited to finally tell Harry that he was pregnant.

 

Now, he couldn’t imagine leaving his bed for more than a little while. The blankets were wearing from months of use and the humidity of the spring. They felt rough and thin against Louis’ tear stained cheeks, pushing more water from his eyes from the irritation. Still, he stayed under them. He felt freezing, despite the fact that heat still radiated through the cabin, casting a hot, wet breeze over Louis’ hair. His fingers shivered from where they peaked out of the bed sheets to pull them up to his face.

 

He was overrun by thoughts of his father. No longer memories, but rather a sense of presence in his mind, as if the man were haunting him. Boiling tears burned his cheeks. Suddenly, he could think of nothing but where his father was going in his afterlife. Would he go to heaven? Was he damned to hell? Then, Louis’ stomach sank as he realized that he might see him again in Hell, when he too was damned for his sins.

 

There was a soft knock on the door. He couldn’t find the energy, nor remember how to use his voice to call out. He heard the door open, but didn’t look up over his covers to see the entering figures face. He knew the footsteps.

 

Harry set down a cup of water next to where he lay in bed. The cup looked cool, and clean. Not the rotting, dirty liquid Louis had ingested in the smallest amounts for the preceding six weeks. The cup tempted him, the salt on his tongue ached, his throat seemed to reach out of his mouth for it. His shaking fingers emerged from the bedclothes with weakness and pulled the cup to his stinging lips. The coolness rushed over his gums, coating every micrometre of his mouth with relief he had been so longing.

 

But second he swallowed though; he realized where this perfect water must have come from. He knew that he had had the last of the water the day before, and the only way to find a supply would be from the ship they had sank just a few hours prior.

 

Immediately, Louis thrust the mug into Harry’s hands and leaned over the bed to vomit right onto the floor. Hot bile stung his throat, burning as it rose. It filled is briefly refreshed mouth with the sour taste of throw-up and set the shiver back into his bones. He ached still for the drink just in front of him, but he knew that if he took even one more sip, he would only return to the now spreading puddle of yellowed, chunky vomit on the floor.

 

Harry set the cup on the ground, far from the river of bile floating and shifting through the cabin as the ship moved. Without a word, he joined Louis on the bed, bundling him up in his blankets, arms joined to finally warm Louis’ shaking body.

 

Together they sat for a while, Harry’s steady heartbeat echoing through Louis’ back, the slow rise and fall of his chest reminding Louis to breathe. He choked up tears for longer than he thought a person could, until he was almost sure that any left over moisture after his vomiting had left through his eyes. He shook as he coughed sobs up. Still Harry breathed slowly, his heartbeat stayed steady, his arms stayed strong around Louis’ collapsing body. He made no effort to shush him, knowing that he only needed to be held a little longer.

 

When he was pushing tears out of aching eyes that no longer existed, Louis slowed his breath until he and Harry were steady against each other. If the day’s events hadn’t drained him enough, he felt as if he had cried any residual ounce of energy out of his body. Harry seemed to sense is exhaustion, and the two of them leaned back slowly onto the bed, Harry taking care to pull the blankets over Louis’ body.

 

He felt like he owed Harry an explanation. To tell him that he wasn’t angry, that he hated that man with every fibre of his being, that he wished him eternal damnation, but that was still his dad, and now he was dead. He didn’t know that it could hurt so much to have someone he hated die. Love was a funny thing, family was funnier. His dad was still dead, no matter what way he framed it, no matter what he thought of him.

 

He wanted to tell Harry all of these things, but his eyes began to droop and the warmth surrounding him made him feel safe for the first time in hours. He could barely find the energy to open his mouth again, but he had promised himself one thing that he _had_ to follow through with. No matter how much crying, no matter how tired, Harry deserved to know.

 

“I’m pregnant,” he whispered into the dark room. The vomit on the floor still caught the moonlight, and he could still only imagine the ocean as dark, thick blood same as what had spilled out of his father’s lifeless form as he fell to the ground.

 

“I know,” Harry whispered back.

***

 

When Louis awoke the next morning, the sweltering heat drowned the air again and sun beat down bright and burning into his eyes. The ship didn’t sway as he’d become accustom to and he knew that they had long since dropped anchor just off of Nassau. Still, Harry’s leg was thrown over his own, arms wrapped strongly around his chest and long tendrils of hair tickling Louis’ now sticky cheeks.

 

As a captain, he should have been there to give his men their orders before their leave. Perhaps he had gotten up to do so, but he had returned to Louis afterwards. He hadn’t woken him up when they landed and he hadn’t made Louis leave the ship, knowing that he might not have the energy to carry himself out of bed. Instead, he had returned to his empty vessel just to fall back to sleep with Louis so that he would feel his presence as he came to.

 

Harry’s soft breaths told him that he was wide-awake, just lying with Louis. He couldn’t find the strength to turn to look at him. “I’m not upset that you killed him, or Liam, it doesn’t really matter who pulled the trigger, really.” It did though, if one way or another it did matter than Liam had done it. Liam who had began to resent him with a passion, who tried to pull his best friend from him, who looked at him as if he deserved nothing, had pulled the trigger to take the source of Louis’ anguish out of his life forever. That meant something. “I’m happy, really. It’s just- I don’t really know what it is.”

 

“I get it,” Harry promised, pressing a barely-there kiss to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He didn’t speak as if he was trying to console him, but rather from true experience.

 

Then Louis mustered the strength to turn in Harry’s arms and meet his eyes. They were soft, light green and wide open as he stared into Louis’, the ghost of a smile floated over his lips. “What do you mean?”

 

He couldn’t help but think that it was hard to relate to having your abusive father killed at the hand of your boyfriend –if Harry was his boyfriend. To Louis, it seemed a fairly unique situation. Still, Harry seemed to have had his own fair share of unusual experiences.

 

“I killed Captain Cowell.” He admitted, eyes still drawn to Louis’ like beacons in the night. “Well, I didn’t pull the trigger, but I was still behind it. I was barely eighteen by then, and I was desperate to get off _The Mary,_ so I just didn’t return after a night of leave. It would have been fine, you see how often we lose men, but I owed Cowell debts for things I had done when I was young: rash decisions only a teenager would make.” In Louis’ head he wanted to remind Harry that he was a teenager. “Anyways, I knew that he’d come for me. I had to save myself and the only way I knew to do that was to kill him before he found me. I met Captain Malik in a tavern not long after and he took a liking to me quickly, I think he thought of me as what Zayn would become, he was only a boy by then. In the end he had people to do the dirty work for me. I never even saw him die.” Harry had held himself in perfect composure until the final sentence when his vice finally broke, watery and strained. “That man may as well have raised me. He was awful to me, he was a terrible man nearly entirely. But he was still there when I needed him the most: when I ran from home. You can hate people and still love them, I guess.” He broke his eyes away from Louis as he admitted this.

 

A silence fell heavily over them, like thick down blankets. For a moment it was comforting, but soon it felt as if it was strangling Louis like a pillow pressed over his mouth and nose until no breath could filter through his lungs and push his brain to function any longer.

 

“Are you upset with me?” Louis asked finally. Even to himself he sounded young, innocent even. He couldn’t bring himself to look Harry in the eye as he spoke. The guilt of tearing Harry away from his celebrations was beginning to wear on him. The last thing he wanted was to ruin this for Harry. He knew how much it meant to him to have finally rid the world of his mother’s killer and all Louis had done was cry. Harry had probably imagined he would party the night away.

 

Harry refused to let Louis’ eyes avoid him. “Why would I be?”

 

“Because you were meant to be enjoying this, this is a good thing!” Louis urged, “I know how much this meant to you and instead of you being happy about it, you’ve had to sit with me all night while I cry when we all should have been happy. That was meant to be the best night of your life.” Louis’ eyes began to ache as tears pressed into the backs of his eye sockets.

 

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry began before realizing his mistake and quickly correcting himself, “Austin.”

 

“Tomlinson, I think.” It was time to move on. Nothing held him to that name any longer; it was time he made his own with his own identity. That name had weighed him down for so long and it was time to shed his father’s shadow off his shoulder.

 

“Tomlinson,” Harry smiled, “last night, you told me that you are going to have my child. How could you think that was not the best night of my life? You are my love, and the only man I will ever love.” Even still, his fingertips ghosted along Louis’ jaw to bring his eyes up. “I don’t care if I drink my life away or stay on the streets until the sun comes up. I care what you need, and what the baby needs. And if that means I have to stay here and cry with you for the next year, I’ll do it gladly.”

 

Harry’s eyes were still light, his face was still soft. A hint of intensity snuck into his hold on Louis’ chin and he knew that he was holding back. He knew Harry was protective of him, from the first time he’d held a gun to a man’s head in a tavern after barely knowing him for a few days. Perhaps knowing that Louis was carrying his child had set off something else in him.

 

“You said you knew.”

 

“Doesn’t mean I believed it.” Harry shrugged, grip loosening on his head. He looked as young as he was again. Louis preferred when Harry felt honest, rather than like a captain. “I’ve known Liam since I was fourteen, I’ve learned not to trust everything he says.”

 

“Liam told you?” It seemed an implausible possibility, what with Liam not giving Louis more than a single thought in nearly two months. Had Zayn told him? It didn’t seem like something Zayn would do, seeing as he’d been in the middle of his and Liam’s silent war.

 

Harry nodded absently, as if he hadn’t noticed the surprise on Louis’ face, “said he was worried about you ‘cus you were sick all the time and asked if you might be pregnant.” He shrugged it off but Louis was completely taken aback.

 

Liam had not so much has looked at him nicely since their dispute, and he had been worried for Louis’ health the whole time? He’d been watching over him for just as long, going through Harry to care for him from afar. Maybe Louis hadn’t lost his big brother. If he cared enough to enquire to Harry, if he cared enough to shoot a man as he hurt Louis with his words, there must still be something salvageable.

 

“I think it’ll be a boy,” Louis could only respond, tucking his chin into Harry’s warm chest. A calm had fallen over the cabin then, and they lay there as Harry ran gentle fingers up and down his back, fingernails surely leaving tiny scratch marks where they caught skin. Louis couldn’t find it in himself to mind though, because he longed to feel Harry’s touch just a little longer before they had to leave the ship.

 

“Really?” Harry asked quietly, there wasn’t much of a challenge in it, just an inquiry, “I always thought she’d be a girl, in my dreams at least.” So Harry dreamed of their child. Louis’ heart ached at his admission. He went to wrap his arms around Harry, to press himself further into the man but Harry’s hands came at lightning speed to hold him a safe distance away. “Careful,” he warned, “don’t want to hurt the baby.”

 

Louis let out a quick giggle, “there’s nothing there to hurt. He’s probably too small to see still.”

 

Then Harry’s face dropped and he realized that he didn’t actually know how long Louis had been pregnant for. “How far along do you reckon you are then?”

 

Louis shrugged, head snapping towards his stomach without his permission, “not far.” He said more to his tummy than Harry, “a few weeks, eight at most.”

 

“And you didn’t tell me all this time?” Harry asked, a little bit saddened, “we left Tortuga nearly eight weeks ago!”

 

Louis pressed a hand to Harry’s chest to calm him, his heart was beating quick into Louis’ palm and he worried that he may have angered him. “I haven’t known for eight weeks! Only two or so. And anyways, I wasn’t sure you’d take it right while you were Captain Styles.” It slipped out without Louis thinking about the fact that he had never mentioned the difference between The Captain and Harry.

 

Just as he expected, Harry’s face screwed up in confusion, “what do you mean I was Captain Styles?” within it was a hidden _aren’t I always?_

“You must know you aren’t always the same. You get different, harder I guess –especially when you’re being the Captain. You’re not the Harry who would dream of our baby or cry with me all night. More Harry who would call me boy and stare at me from across a room as if you might off me any moment. More Harry who would hold a gun to my head.”

 

Harry sat up all of a sudden, bringing Louis with him by the shoulder. He stared into Louis’ eyes with enough intensity to make him uncomfortable. “I _would never_ do that to you Louis,” he promised, he search Louis’ eyes for something for a while before calming himself to continue, “we all have our regrets, and mine is that I can’t be your Harry all the time, but even when I’m not you are just as important to me as you are when I’m here.” His grip was sound on Louis’ shoulders, refusing to let him turn away, “I need you to know that much.”

 

 

Louis nodded softly as Harry pressed a soft kiss into his sleep ruffled hair.

 

***

 

They ate dinner that night in a little pub near the edge of the busy part of Nassau. It seemed to be populated entirely by locals, but each one gave Harry a quiet nod to show him their respect. With his hat and jacket on, even a someone who was unaware of who he was knew that Harry demanded attention. Louis still didn’t know how he felt about the sort of attention Harry got. Harry kept a steady hand on his back throughout the whole night, practically holding a still weak Louis in his arms.

 

Eventually the reached a different pub, a more bustling one where Harry set Louis up at a table in a corner before going to get them drinks. A fiddle was screeching loudly throughout the room, playing a rhythmic turn why others danced and clapped along. By then, most of the crowd was drunk enough to be rowdy, but not yet at the point of danger. They’d probably leave by then, knowing Harry.

 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a place like this, boy?” Someone asked behind him. Louis’ back straightened at the sound. A man circled around his table, his eyes locked onto Louis. He was older than Harry, but probably not by too much. He sported a scruffy beard, rust coloured with matching hair on his head and chest through his open shirt. He was dirty, but Louis reckoned he was too. “Don’t ya’ know the sort of people who frequent these places?”

 

Louis laughed, a purposely deep throated one so as to sound like a man, “I happen to be one of these people.” He spoke stony-faced, school his expression as he made direct eye contact with the man’s prying eyes.

 

Behind them the music burst at its end and a round of cheers filled the air. Louis wondered where Harry had gone for so long. The bar was only to his left, but he wouldn’t dare look away from this man.

 

The man snorted back, looking away for just a moment and Louis made the quick move to slip his fingers inside his jacket, just in case. “Sure ya’ are boy. Lookin’ to make a little cash? Perhaps a spot on a crew? I’m sure I could find the space on my ship.” He’d leaned in then and Louis could feel his hot breath against his face, smelling putrid. Still, he didn’t flinch.

 

“Like you’d be a captain,” Louis scoffed.

 

Immediately the man’s face dropped into something of pure anger. He was absolutely seething. Louis felt that he should have been scared, but he was no longer a lost new pirate, no longer a little boy, no longer in the shadow of his father. He looked the man in the eyes. “Bitch,” the man spoke dismissively. For a moment he thought he had won without resorting to the metal in his jacket but then the man was grabbing at his arm, trying to pull him from his seat. He held hard onto Louis’ bicep, probably bruising with his fingertips. Still, Louis did not let himself be moved.

 

Then a hard slap came down on the side of his face.

 

Before he could completely process that the man had slapped him across the face, he had a gun extended from his arm, pointed between the man’s eyes.

 

He’d had it with him since Niall had handed it to him on the deck the day before. Louis wasn’t even sure why he’d brought it off the ship with him in the first place but it had felt right, for a pirate to carry a gun. If he was honest, he barely knew how to wield it, wasn’t even sure if he could aim it right if it really came down to it.

 

The room fell silent, the music died with a singular off-key note of surprise and Louis could actually hear the room turn towards his display. His stomach churned as the gun weighed down his outstretched hand. Deep breaths filled his lungs and he felt his finger hook around the trigger like it was not part of his body. Everything had felt like slow motion, the room seemed to spin except for him and the gun and the man standing wide eyes with his breath held.

 

Slowly the man raised both hands above his head, still Louis kept the pistol steady. “You don’t touch me.” He spoke as calmly as he could, his own voice sounding foreign as it made the only sound in the entire pub. The man nodded slowly, careful not to startle Louis into pulling the trigger.

 

Even with the acknowledgment, Louis couldn’t seem to lower the gun. Even as his arm began to ache with the weight, he held steady.

 

“Lou,” he heard somewhere, faintly from behind him. It sounded like he was underwater, a word spoken slowly and distorted. The room wavered like a current running under the sea, the lanterns affixed to the wall casting the same broken shadow as the sun through waves. “Louis,” the voice said again, clearer now, but still too far. “Louis can you lower the gun?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“Louis, are you going to kill him?”

 

Again, he shook his head. Now he could barely see the man. Was he even there anymore? He could see a vague outline in front of him now, the rust coloured hair still stood out in his glossed over sight.

 

“Louis, are you going to shoot him?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Louis can you lower the gun?” the voice spoke again. Something warm pressed onto his hip. Again, Louis shook his head. “Louis can you look at me?”

 

Harry’s eyes were the lightest he had ever seen them, almost sea-foam. He looked too young, not like a captain, just like Harry.

 

Louis was The Captain now, wasn’t he? He’d seen Harry do this same thing before. He’d seen the Captain take over Harry’s mind, draining of anything recognizably him. Now the same thing had taken over his own body.

 

Something crashed onto the floor and suddenly the same warmth surrounded him, growing from his hip until it overtook all of him. Soon he could smell Harry’s hair and he could see the sharp details of his curls again.

 

“You’re okay,” Harry spoke quietly into the shell of his ear, “you’re okay.”

 

***

 

Late that night, when they both lay in bed too wide awake form that night’s events to sleep Louis finally asked what had been plaguing his mind since he’d pulled the gun out. “Is it always like that, for you?”

 

“Like there’s nothing else around? Like you can’t hear anything or understand anything? Like you’re paralyzed?” Louis nodded. “Yes.”

 

“It was terrible,” Louis confided quietly. “To have no control. I thought I might actually kill him there.”

 

Harry pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t,” he promised. “You aren’t a killer Louis. Just because you don’t feel like you when you slip out doesn’t mean you aren’t. I’m still Harry when I’m Captain Styles, just more intense. It’s like everything is amplified ten fold until it’s one big buzzing mess and you can’t even feel if your finger had pulled the trigger.”

 

Softly, Louis kissed Harry’s perfectly pink lips. They were cool and wet, just as he had become accustom to. “I think you should take the gun. Forever I mean.” Harry nodded solemnly. “And I want you to make love to me now.”

 

“Are you sure you’re-“ Harry asked before Louis pressed his lips against the other man’s again.

 

“I need to feel you. To feel okay.” Harry seemed to understand then, pressing soft kisses to Louis’ ear. He moved down slowly, along Louis’ jaw and up to his chin before finally pressing into his mouth carefully at first until it became too much and he had to kiss hard enough to feel teeth through his lips. That was Louis’ favourite, when the passion was too much to be soft with him.

 

Harry had a tendency to treat him like a china doll when they were together. Louis had been fragile, that was true, but now he could hold a gun to a man’s head, and carry a child. There wasn’t much left to break of him.

 

Harry fiddled with the buttons of his shirt until he’d tucked to open sides under Louis’ side and looked upon the plain canvas of his chest. Along his collarbone, Harry painted the first of many descending, purpling spots each with a hard sucking and intent to mark. That was until he reached the side of his still flat stomach, there his lips softened into little butterfly kisses. A smile danced over his face every time he looked upon Louis’ skin, like he could already see his child. Louis’ heart swelled at the thought.

 

Only for a moment though, because soon Harry’s lips were mouthing at his cock through the cotton of his pants “F-fuck,” he stuttered out at the sudden contact. It had been so long since Harry had touched him. Weeks by then.

 

Harry made quick work of his trousers, throwing them onto the inn floor with no concern for where they landed. Soon he’d taken all of Louis’ cock down his throat, tongue circling the shaft and cheeks pulled in. Louis couldn’t help but moan. Everything felt like _so much_ that he could barely control himself.

 

“You like that don’t you, baby boy,” Harry panted into his thigh with a sly smile and his eyes peaking through a curtain of dark eyelashes. He didn’t wait for Louis to respond before his tongue was flat over the head of his cock, tasting the saltiness of his precome.

 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Louis insisted, “just fuck me, please.” Even after only a couple of minutes he was taking in long heavy breaths, desperate to relieve himself of the overwhelming feeling of Harry against his cock.

 

“You sure?” Harry asked, with his lips still running up and down the side of Louis’ cock. His hot breaths spread up through his crotch and up into the pit of his stomach.

 

The heat of it all was too much and Louis’ voice broke as he let out a strangled “please.”

 

Harry pressed hot kisses to every inch of his body as he prepped him. Even if he wouldn’t let on, Louis knew he was taking extra care to do it right. He could feel a bruise blooming on his neck as Harry scissored his fingers inside on him.

 

Then he finally sunk into him and Louis could feel his eyes roll back, a gasp of relief on his lips. Harry, who normally gave Louis more than a little time to adjust couldn’t resist from longer than a few seconds before he was thrusting full force against Louis’ prostate.

 

The feeling was hard to name. Absolutely euphoric was the closest he could possibly get. Maybe full was better, satisfied perhaps.

 

“There ya’ go baby,” Harry whispered into the shell of his ear, “there you go.” He thrust hard and intense so much so that Louis was moved back and forth by sheer force each time he did. The old frame of the inn bed creaked and shook as they moved and Louis began to fear that they might break it. “Fuck Lou,” he exclaimed, “you’re going to be so full of me. My baby. God, I’m never going to let you not be pregnant.” As Harry spoke, a hand came down to hold the side of his waist, fingers splayed over the edge of his stomach. “There’s a baby in there Lou. My baby.”

 

 _My baby, my baby_ seemed to echo through the chamber as Harry fucked into him. He’d never seen Harry so intensely present about anything. It seemed, as Louis gasped for more, that he had finally given Harry something to be there for.

 

They both came quietly, starkly contrasting for the noise and need of sex. Instead their moans were replaced by heavy, gasping breaths shared in the space on the pillows. For a while Louis marvelled at Harry’s closed eyes and his open mouth before the other man looked upon him too. Harry said nothing, but gave Louis a soft kiss on his cheek and wrapped the two of them up in blankets to sleep.

 

***

 

The next morning, Harry dragged him out to the docks along with Zayn and Liam. He’d still yet to have his talk with Liam, but something easier had washed over their relationship, the air felt thinner between them and he no longer held Zayn away like Louis was a predator. Still, they didn’t speak.

 

Harry refused to tell them why they were on a trek to the docks, but Louis enjoyed it all the same, walking through ship after ship, seeing their flags flown high in shades of black and red. Not a single Naval ship was in sight, or no ship currently owned by the Navy, because Louis recognized some of them as British ships with new flags.

 

It looked a lot like the one back home on Hispaniola, where his father’s ship would dock when he was home. Louis tried not to think about the fact that there would always be an empty slot now that it was at the bottom of the ocean.

 

Instead, he focused on the burly man standing in front of them, clearly waiting for Harry to approach. He was pudgy at best, with nearly blond hair, a patchy beard and a smile on his face. He would look more like a baker than a pirate if it hadn’t been for the tattoos covering every inch of open skin under his neck.

 

“James,” Harry greeted happily, taking the man’s extended hand in both of his. “It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”

 

“Aye,” the man, James, laughed, “I remember when you were just a little whipper-snapper. What a nice boy you were then. Nothing like now since you’re an asshole that can’t come to see his good friend James more frequently than once every couple of years.“

 

Harry took the man into a quick embrace before letting him go again. “Get mad at Liam too, he’s not any better than me.”

 

“Liam’s still a darling boy.” James reasoned, “he’s stuck to his roots. Not all of us became captains when we turned 18.” James then embraced Liam with much more enthusiasm to prove his point. “Anyways, who’s your entourage?” he asked looking between Zayn and Louis as he tried to place the two young boys into roles.

 

“Zayn’s my matelot.” Liam told him with a happy smile, wrapping his arms around Zayn from behind a holding up his left hand to show off the oversized ring adorning his finger.

 

“Not…” James began, clearly recognizing Zayn. After all, not too many men looked like him West of the Persian Gulf. Zayn only nodded and James let out what could only be called a giggle, “gotta say Liam, didn’t think you’d bag a Malik.”

 

Then he turned towards Louis and Harry. The scene was awkward to say the least, and Louis nearly wanted to crawl into a hole at the idea of explaining that he was not Harry’s matelot. At least he wasn’t visibly pregnant, just to twist the knife a little further.

 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, tentatively like he hadn’t quite thought through what he would say. Louis couldn’t bear to have Harry explain whatever it was he was going to call him. Boyfriend? Partner? Instead, he took matters into his own hands, “I’m Louis. I do his paperwork.”

 

It hurt to lie about what he meant to Harry, and it felt unfair to their baby to belittle their relationship, but he couldn’t deal with the thought of Harry explaining that they were having a child only for James to look down to his empty hand. The lightness on his finger hurt more than it should have.  

 

“Nice to meet you, boy.” James smiled; extending a hand that Louis took graciously.

 

“Now, where’re the ships?” Harry asked a little impatiently.

 

“Ah, right,” James smiled still, seemingly unaware of Harry’s change in demeanour. “I’ve got a couple to show you. You didn’t say what you were looking for in your letter, but I’ll show you the smaller one first.” James proceeded to lead them down the line of ships towards a beautiful one, a little smaller than _The Rose_ but clearly newer.

 

They circled the deck for a while, marvelling at the brand new planks and modern construction. It was too small for the crew, though. Louis couldn’t understand why they were even looking at ships in the first place. _The Rose_ was still young in ship’s terms, and she sailed just as well as any ship could, there was no need to look at replacing her and certainly not downsizing with their ever growing crew.

 

They toured through the canon bay, and Zayn took an eager look out of each of the gun ports, sometimes leaning out a little too far so that Liam would have to make a split second move to pull him back in by the shirt. Still Louis didn’t know why they were even entertaining the idea of taking this ship. Their crew could barely be contained in their current one, and the decreased sleeping quarters would mean that half their crew would be on the floor.

 

The Captain’s quarters were beautiful. Larger than _The Rose,_ with a big open window on the back instead of the porthole Louis had become used to. It would fit much more than a bed and desk too, maybe a cot or- no, the ship was too small for them to take it.

 

While James told them the wonders of this ship, how it’d only been built recently, never sailed more than its journey from England and not a speck of damage to impede it, Harry came up behind him as subtly as he could to whisper, “what do you think of it?”

 

Louis turned, “it’s too small for the crew, we’re already over occupancy on _The Rose.”_ He told him matter-of-factly, Louis did manage his paperwork, and he of all people knew how many men lived on the ship.

 

With his voice still low Harry leaned in, “’S not for the crew.”

 

Then he had Louis’ attention. “What do you mean?”

 

Harry only shrugged, “been thinking about expanding the fleet for a while. Like you said, our crew’s getting too big for one ship. And now that there’s going to be a baby, I don’t want some of my men living on the same ship as my child. Figure it’s the best time to expand. I’ll still captain both, but Niall’ll be in charge of _The Rose_ full time, while this one’ll be ours.”

 

Louis remembered Zayn telling him stories of his family’s ship in the fleet. The most luxurious ship on the seven seas, where only his father’s most trusted mates could live. Where his father ran the biggest fleet outside of the Pacific. He’d never imagined that he’d get the same treatment. In fact, he’d never really thought of what they’d do about a baby living in an enclosed space with so many hardened criminals, but now he was sure that Harry had.

 

“It’s pretty.” Louis told him, at a loss for words at the idea of Harry buying him a ship.

 

“Do you want to see another one?” Harry asked, seeming concerned that he had not gotten exactly what Louis wanted.

 

“No, no!” he insisted, “this is perfect, it’s just…a lot. Are you sure you want to buy me a ship?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Harry’s face scrunched up like Louis’d asked a question he genuinely didn’t understand.

 

 _Because you haven’t even bought me a ring yet._ “Just seems…big.”

 

Harry took each of Louis’ hands into his own, “you’re giving me a baby, Lou. The least I can do is buy you a ship to keep the two of you safe.”

 

Louis wanted to tell him that the least he could be doing was actually to buy him a ring, to sign a contract with him like Zayn and Liam had, to promise himself to Louis until his dying day. But a ship would do, if that was all he was willing to give then.

 

With Harry’s hands still holding his, Louis noticed a new feeling against his left hand. He took a quick glance towards Harry’s corresponding right hand to see exactly what he didn’t want to see. There, on his finger, was a ring Louis was all too familiar with.

 

He’d known that pirates were meant to take the ring of each Captain he killed, but he’d never thought that he’d see his father’s ring on his lover’s hand. Louis had always thought he’d eventually take the jewellery from his father as inheritance, and once he was practically disowned, he’d figured it would go to Lottie, or Ernest if he were feeling especially patriarchal at the time. Never had he imagined seeing it wielded by anyone outside of his family.

 

It felt like a betrayal. His hands pulled from Harry’s within a moment, still fixed on the ring. What right did Harry have to it? He hadn’t even killed him, Liam had. And if they weren’t counting who pulled the trigger, it was Louis who had had the power there. All Harry had done was find him. He didn’t deserve his father’s ring.

 

Suddenly, Louis couldn’t look at Harry. “I’m going for a walk.” He told the man without looking up into his eyes. “Just need some air.”

 

He made the move to turn and leave but Harry caught his arm, “do you want me to come with you? I can make this quick.”

 

Louis shook his head but didn’t change his path. He didn’t know where he was going even, but he knew that he could no longer see Harry with _his_ ring. The ring he deserved, that was his birth right. He nearly ran down the gangplank, and took off in a random direction until he could no longer see the docks.

 

Then, he was wandering through the streets of Nassau with no sense of direction whatsoever, just knowing that he needed to be _somewhere else_. He walked aimlessly through the market squares, looking at carts full of things he would never buy, piles of fresh fruit that would rot the second they pulled up anchor in a couple of days, crafts to be hung on walls he didn’t have.

 

All around him, the world went about their lives. People lived like he used to, from the market to their houses, living in one place forever. He saw little girls dressed just like his sisters in frilled dresses and petticoats; boys and their mums shopping. Sometimes he missed the days when he’d do the same. He missed a sense of permanency in his life. Nothing on the ship felt like it could last forever.

 

They’d sail until they were killed, or were too old to fight any more. This baby would grow up on a ship with nothing concrete to call his own. No wonder Zayn had left it. Who in their right mind could give up the opportunity to love like the locals of Nassau did, calmly and happily for all of their days?

 

Once Louis had thought he’d never be able to love life on a ship. Then he’d thought he never wanted to go back to land. But just as Zayn had told him, eventually the days with excitement and pleasure had been outnumbered by ones with nothing to do and dehydration wracking his body.

 

As he stood in the centre of the market, watching as if he were underwater at the people circling around him like vultures, he didn’t ever want to get back on the ship. Not _The Rose,_ not any other vessel. So he found himself a non-descript pub and took a seat near the back.

 

***

 

Louis sat there for a while. Eventually the sun began to set and the pub started to fill more and more with men Louis had seen before. It seemed he had accidentally fallen into a pirate’s pub, but with his hat on the table and his heavy coat still over his shoulders, he fit in perfectly.

 

Maybe he wasn’t meant to go back to normal life anymore.

 

Men mostly ignored him. Either because they didn’t notice him, or because they knew not to mess with Captain Styles’ property. So he sat, nursing a glass of cold water while he took in the scene.

 

He was so taken by the comings and goings of the bartender that he barely noticed the arrival of a young boy at his table. In all honesty, he wasn’t all that much younger than Louis, but he felt so much older than seventeen now. The boy was probably older than his face let on too, with chubby cheeks and constellations of pimples running up and down the sides of his face. His hair was sandy brown and flopped over his eyes and he was tall, but gangly in the sort of way that showed he hadn’t been that way for long.

 

The boy said nothing for quite a while. He seemed to have decided to approach Louis without any further preparation, so he just shifted from one foot to the other chewing a hole through his cheek while he waited for Louis to look up and notice him. Just to be annoying, Louis took a few extra sips of his water before finally making eye contact.

 

“Can I help you?” he asked, making a point of setting his glass down rather hard. The boy jumped and Louis felt terrible about how much joy he felt.

 

“I –um- I was, uh,” the boy stuttered, his sentence seemingly never fully forming around his lips before he began another one. “Do you have room on your crew? I swear I’m skilled and I’ll work hard and I…” he trailed off as he realized he didn’t have anything else to offer.

 

Then Louis realized that this boy thought he was the captain of a ship. What was he meant to say; _no sorry I’m just fucking the captain?_ Or _I’m just a cabin boy with good clothes?_ Could he pretend he was the captain of a ship that did not exist? Did he tell the truth? Instead, he dug himself a deeper hole. “What’s your name, boy?”

 

Something about the word _boy_ held more power than he had expected it to. This young man was probably around his age and yet he carried so much more than he did. When did Louis become more than a seventeen year old?

 

“William, sir. William Carley.” The boy called him sir. Like he deserved any sort of respect.

 

Louis wasn’t sure why he wasn’t turning William away, but he saw something of himself in him. Only half a year ago, he’d been in the exact same position. He’d stood in a pub, looking anxiously at anyone who looked anything like a way out of the island. “Have a seat William.”

 

He didn’t own a ship, he certainly wasn’t a captain, but he could talk to William for a little bit. Perhaps he could be what Captain Grimshaw definitely was _not._ Maybe, if someone had gotten to the bottom of his problems that night, he wouldn’t have left so fast. Okay, he probably would have either way, but he probably wouldn’t have given himself to a bad captain so fast. Perhaps he would have shopped around. Probably not.

 

“What’s brought you here?” Louis asked, leaning back into the chair as he took more water through his mouth. He noticed himself spreading himself out over the seat so as to appear larger than he was.

 

William looked at him as if he was honestly surprised that Louis hadn’t just offered a place on his crew. He took a seat anyways but didn’t look eager to unload whatever had driven him to run away on a pirate ship. “I’m looking for a crew to sail with.”

 

Louis sighed, “I don’t mean what are you actually doing, I mean why are you doing it?”

 

He looked absolutely taken aback by Louis’ question. He guessed that the last thing he’d expected a pirate to ask was why he wanted to join. After all, it wasn’t as if he was in any position to deny him a life in piracy. “I –um- just want to?” he spoke; voice tipping up at the end like it was a question.

 

“No one becomes a pirate just because they want to,” Louis scoffed off, “look, every little boy on the islands loves the idea of being a pirate, but no one does it unless they’ve got a real reason.” William blanched like a wild animal caught in rifle sight. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” Louis finally offered.

 

Tentatively William nodded a singular time.

 

“I was being sent off to be a man I’d never met’s carrier for the rest of my life.” He told him, point blank.

 

“But you’re so…” William didn’t finish, but Louis could tell that he’d realized that Louis wasn’t any older than he was.  

 

Louis raised his eyebrows with a sly smile, “didn’t end up going, did I?” William’s eyes shot open and Louis held in a chuckle. “Your turn now.”

 

“I’m sick of being a housekeeper.”

 

“And?” Louis asked, not believing that being a servant was enough to drive him out. Louis had heard the stories of nearly every man on _The Rose_ and some had been servants before they became pirates, but every one had a breaking point: a singular moment that pushed them over the edge. No one just decided to leave without a trigger.

 

“I’m sick of not controlling my life?” Another question.

 

“And?”

 

“The lady I report to doesn’t love me.” He finally said, and Louis could fill in the blanks well enough. It wasn’t unheard of for Naval wives to have men on the side, hell his own mother had, and servants had always been the easiest. Louis also knew that being as young as William was, any proclamation of love would mean a whole lot more than it would to any other side-screw.

 

“So you don’t want to work for her anymore, and you figure that piracy will give you the control you have always craved.” Louis confirmed. “Have you left a note for your mum?”

 

Louis knew he couldn’t send William home, that even if he did he’d just find a new crew (probably a worse one). He did know that he could make William regret it less than he did now.

 

“I- “ William started, but his face contorted mid-thought, “no.”

 

Louis finally leaned forward over the table towards the boy. “If you go home tonight and you write your mum a goddamn note so she knows you haven’t been kidnapped or died I’ll offer you this:” he could feel his voice becoming overbearingly loud in the pub and eyes turning to lock on his interaction, “I don’t control my ship, my matelot does-“

 

“Your what?” William asked just as he had months ago. Louis swallowed a laugh, but also the bitter taste of his own lie.

 

“He’s like my husband, just without the church.” Louis threw out offhandedly, “anyways, if you go home and write that letter and come back here tomorrow morning, I’ll make sure you have a place on our crew.”

 

“You…you can’t marry another man!” William exclaimed and Louis could see the whole pub turn. After all, they were pirates, and marrying men was like second nature. Even Louis forgot that one couldn’t normally do that.

 

Still, he sighed and leaned back into the chair, “I’m throwing you a line here. If you want a place on Captain Styles’ crew, you’re going to shut the fuck up about whether or not I can marry a man or you can go straight back home and I’ll make certain that you never get a place on any crew at all.”

 

‘’Ye-yes, sir.” William nodded and without a word he was out of the pub. Half of Louis hoped that he wouldn’t be there the next morning, but he also knew that he had been in the exact same place only five months prior and he would have taken the proposition in a heartbeat.  

 

***

 

Louis finished his water and then started the relatively short walk back to the inn under the yellowed light of the torch lit town. It was peaceful, or as peaceful as a town with pirates spilling from pubs could be, and Louis felt at ease for the first time all day. He pretended that he wasn’t going back to the source of all his problems in the first place, and instead dreamt of how lovely a bed would feel without a ship swaying under it.

 

He pretended all the way until he reached his room and pushed open the door to see Harry sitting on the bed looking irritated.

 

“Where were you Louis?” he asked with very little emotion in his voice and Louis feared he might slip out of himself right then and he would have to put him back together.

 

“A pub. I met a boy who wanted a spot on the crew and I said he could have it, I hope you don’t mind.” Louis tried his best to steer the conversation away from the real argument they needed to have, which had nothing to do with _where_ Louis went.

 

“It’s fine Lou,” Harry sighed, softening visibly as the nickname snuck its way into his speech. “Why did you freak out so suddenly this morning? If you don’t want a ship we don’t have to get it.” He looked desperate then and Louis realized that he thought Louis was going to leave again. He wanted to comfort him, to put his arms around Harry and just hold him like he had in the pub the night before, but he resisted in order to get his point across.

 

“You’re wearing my ring.” He told him in a quiet voice. Louis couldn’t stomach saying any more, but immediately Harry had his hands splayed out in front of him, looking for the ring that was rightfully Louis’. It wasn’t hard to tell when his eyes fell upon the signet ring newly adorning his right middle finger because his breath caught in his throat. Perhaps it was a testament to how well Harry knew him by then, or it was that the ring was the only one that stood out. “You didn’t kill him. I did.”

 

Harry looked at the ring a moment longer. Without finding Louis’ eyes, he spoke, “you’re right.” Then, almost ceremoniously, he slipped the ring off his finger and presented it out to Louis. “It’s your right.”

 

The weight of the ring was more than Louis had been expecting. Not just the physical weight of the metal, but also the less real weight in Louis’ palm. This was his birthright, finally returned to him. This was everything his father had ever done, every effect his father had had on him, everything he had let happen, everything he had done to Louis’ family, finished. The ring had circled to its true owner. The son ended the father, and he had gotten what he deserved for it. It felt very final. Even more final than seeing blood pour from his father’s skull had been, or smelling the smoke as it rose from Liam’s pistol, or hearing his father’s body splash against the sea as it sunk, the exchange of his final possession was more important.

 

“Thank you.” Louis slipped the ring onto his thumb, where it fit snuggly around its widest point. The cursive T.A. embossed in caught the light from the lamp by the bed and the tightening feeling in Louis’ stomach finally dissipated into a low burning sadness. He no longer wanted to cry, but he still mourned the death of his father in the only way he knew.

 

 _Closure,_ he thought. That was what he felt.

 

“It’s not only _this_ ring that’s been bothering me,” he told Harry after a moment of reviewing his new jewellery. He hoped that his point would come across without any further explanation.

 

“You want a real one, right?” Harry asked and Louis nodded right back. Harry looked down, a little chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head to himself. “You know you’re meant to talk to me about things, right? That’s how adult relationships work. You don’t just get to sneak off and not come back for hours so I have to worry that you’ve been kidnapped just because you don’t have the balls to tell me that you want a ring and a bit of paperwork!” It seemed like they were always arguing. It was always something with them, and it was always the fault of Louis’ lack of communication skills that caused the rift. “I get that you’re young, but if we’re going to do grown-up things like have a baby and get married, you have to learn to act like a grown-up!”

 

It seemed that Harry had been harbouring these feelings for quite a while, judging by the way a dam broke as his words overflowed into the air with speed and anger. He was sick of Louis’ games, and if Louis was honest: so was he. “Okay.” was all he could manage to say. What was he meant to say? “I’m sorry.”

 

Harry got up off the bed then and wrapped both his arms tightly around Louis’ body. His chin dug into the juncture between Louis’ neck and shoulder and his hair tickled the sides of his face but Louis couldn’t bring himself to pull away. “It’s okay baby,” Harry whispered so that it stayed in the air between them instead of reverberating through the room like their previous words had. “You’re okay, darling,” he continued, “you just have to talk to me. I care what you have to say, okay?” Louis nodded just slightly in the confines of Harry’s grasp. “Let’s go to bed now, yeah?” Again, Louis nodded.

 

Harry stripped him of his clothes dutifully and gently, before doing the same to himself. He laid their clothes over a chair in the corner of the room and just before he tucked the two of them under the blankets he knelt down and pressed a soft kiss onto the skin to the side of Louis’ belly.

 

When they were both ready to succumb to sleep, tucked under the heavy blankets and warmth radiating around the room, Louis lay with his body facing away from Harry and his arms wrapped around him. He was just about to close his eyes to sleep, but one final sentence slipped from his lips as he did. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” came a few minutes later, and Louis was so close to sleep by then that he nearly missed it. Still, a fluttery feeling filled his stomach and heart to distract him from sleeping for a moment longer.

 

***

 

“I want to go see my mum.” Louis told him the next morning, when they were in a rush to meet James about the ship before going to see if William had followed through on his promise.

 

“Alright.” Harry said offhandedly, “it’s about a day’s sail to Tortuga, and I’ll arrange for someone to take you the rest of the way to Hispaniola once we get there. I’ve got business to arrange there anyways, so it’s no trouble to stop there for a couple of days.”

 

“No, I-“ Louis interjected, “I want you to come with me.”

 

Then Harry turned, a look of something between bewilderment and elation covered his face as he realized what that meant. “You want me to come and meet your mum?”

 

Louis nodded, “and the girls. They all think I’m dead, so I figure it’s time to tell them I’m not.”

 

Harry looked sceptical, “are you sure you want to do that?” he asked tentatively, “it’s just –are you sure you’re going to come back once you see that you can go home?”

 

Louis hadn’t thought of that. He could, conceivably, go home now that his father was dead, and things could go back to normal. News of his father’s death would spread quickly to Lottie and soon enough they could all go back to living their regular lives without the shadow of their father over them. He didn’t have to be a pirate anymore, and maybe he would decide that he didn’t want to be once he saw his old life again. But-

 

He took a step towards Harry, so as to look him in the eyes and placed both of Harry’s hand against his stomach under his own. “My life is here, with you and our baby. Nothing is going to change that for me. Not seeing my mum, not seeing my island, not anything.”

 

Harry just kissed him, hard. If they hadn’t been in such a rush to get out the door, Louis was sure they would have had sex right there in the middle of the room, possibly on the carpet. It felt like the sealing of a vow of some sort. He’d now promised himself to Harry forever, to a life he had never imagined he would have but one that he wouldn’t dare trade for what it was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual comments make my heart sing. <3


	12. 3.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that writing a world where lots of modern inventions didn't exist makes similes and metaphors super difficult. 
> 
> It's a shorty, and theme-wise it should have been in part 2 but I felt like we all needed to be settled before we went home.

Hispaniola was smaller than Louis remembered it. The buildings barely cleared the expansive line of palm trees and as they approached the harbour, Louis could see either end of the island. It was tiny, and Louis couldn’t understand how he had possibly been happy with living on such a small landmass for so long. How hadn’t it driven him insane?

 

They had left Nassau early the last morning, on a boat from James’ fleet just large enough for the two of them to sail and sleep for the day long sail. Harry had set Niall in charge of the crew in his absence, despite the fact that few of them would even wake up to find their captain gone after what was surely a rather extreme night of celebration.

 

Originally the plan had been to take the whole crew to Tortuga, but it didn’t seem fair to rip them away from their vacation just to take them to another island to relax on. They’d only be gone a couple of days at most: one for Louis’ family, and one to attend to Harry’s business on Tortuga so there was no need to move the crew.

 

Harry sidled up behind him and wrapped his arms around Louis’ small body. Taking in all that was Hispaniola but no longer Louis’ home, Harry felt like a grounding presence. “How’s my baby this morning?” he whispered into Louis’ ear so close that he could feel the moisture from his mouth against the shell. His thumb caressed Louis’ stomach through his shirt.

 

“I couldn’t tell you,” Louis giggled, eyes still fixed on the harbour as they moved closer. “He’s too tiny to feel.” Absentmindedly, Louis’ own fingers came to rest on his tummy, as if semi-expecting that there would be a bump where there hadn’t been that morning (he’d checked).

 

“She’ll be big enough soon,” Harry promised. They’d been having this pseudo-disagreement since Harry had found out, and no matter how many times Louis told him that he was absolutely positive that it was a boy, Harry would only refer to it as his daughter. “Just think about it,” Harry said quietly, “in a few months’ time we’ll be a family. Arguably the most powerful family this side of the Atlantic.”

 

Louis had thought about it. He’d thought long and hard about the fact that soon they’d be the new Maliks. He’d also thought about what that childhood had done to Zayn and all his sisters. He didn’t want his son to grow up and beg to leave, and he certainly didn’t want his son to be forced to find a way to get by like Zayn had. It had been plaguing him. Did he really want his child to grow up in this kind of world? He loved life as a pirate, but he had chosen that for himself. Was it fair to choose a life of crime for his child before they even existed?    

 

They looked like a small trading ship as they pulled in the harbour, and not a single person would think they were any different from the tradesmen funnelling into the town to pedal their products to tired sailors and their families. They wouldn’t be looked at twice, and Louis found it disconcerting just how little people noticed him. In pirate ports, Harry drew a stare from everyone he passed because people knew him and by association, they stared at Louis. But this place used to be his home, and he used to be from the most powerful family on the entire island. Now, no one even looked at him once. Did he look any different? Had they just forgotten that he had existed in the first place? Troy Austin’s oldest son, did they even remember him?

 

They walked the streets and Louis navigated them like second nature. Every so often he would turn without noticing and guide Harry down a growingly familiar alleyway. The habit gave him time to look at his surroundings for the first time in months. Things looked the same. Buildings were still bright white and trees were still just as tall as they’d been since he left, but it seemed different. Everything was smaller; that fact kept nagging him with every step he took. It was like he was coming back to a place of distant childhood memories, where he himself had been smaller and thus everything around him had been skewed. But he’d just been here, hadn’t he?

 

The sky was bright blue and out in the distance, it was hard to see where the sky ended and fell into the sea. A warm breeze washed over his cheeks and beat down on the top of his head. He’d become so accustom to wearing his hat and jacket every time they were off the ship that he felt a little naked in only a tunic and his hair falling over his forehead. He felt like home, but it also felt like all of the Caribbean. It felt like Hispaniola, and Tortuga, and Nassau, even the open water felt the same.

 

He came to a sudden stop when he recognized the beginning of his road. He could see the tip of his roof and the edge of his walkway but something stopped him from moving towards it. He was terrified. What did he say to a mother who had surely accepted his death? Even worse, how did he tell her that her husband wouldn’t be returning? Also, what did he say when he introduced Harry? He certainly couldn’t tell her that he was a pirate captain and Louis was pregnant with his child. That wouldn’t go over well. _Hey mum, this is Harry, he killed your husband and now I’m having his child. Oh and by the way, I’m alive and so is Lottie –sorry for not telling you that tiny detail._

 

He was a bit fucked if he was honest.

 

“I don’t know if I can go in there,” he spoke absently to Harry, who despite the fact he could not see, he knew was right behind him.

 

Harry moved so that he was well into Louis’ eye line, “do you not want me there? You know I won’t be upset if you want to do this alone. I can come by this afternoon or tomorrow even.”

 

“No!” Louis said with more force than he had originally intended. “I- I think I need you there, just so I’m not alone. But would it be all right if I just called you my friend? I feel like it might be a little too heavy to tell her about us and the baby and everything right after she’s realized I’m even still living.”

 

Harry pressed a soft kiss to his cheekbone, “of course, baby. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

 

Louis took in a deep breath, and even as his stomach twisted and threatened to push bile up his throat, he took a step forward. Harry followed behind, trailing enough that Louis felt alone as he approached the door.

 

The guard in front of the door took a step back and let out an audible gasp as he realized who Louis was. Louis half expected him to stop them from moving through the door, but he seemed frozen on the spot as if he had just seem a ghost –and perhaps he thought he had.

 

The threshold looked the same, with its panelled walls and sweeping sunlight casting an empty glow over the living room. All his sisters’ shoes were lined up neatly by the same painting that had always been in the hall. It should have felt the same, like it had felt coming home every day for 16 years, but it didn’t. It felt wrong. He felt like he was trespassing in his own home. His finger’s found Harry’s behind him and the man gave his hand a little squeeze, but it did nothing to settle Louis’ stomach.

 

“Lou?” a quiet voice asked from the staircase. Even after all the months he had been away, Louis would recognize Phoebe’s little voice anywhere. He grinned at her with unmasked joy and soon her body was thrown against his thighs to hug all of his body she could reach. He could feel her smile through his pants leg. “They said you weren’t coming back, ever.”

 

Louis dropped to his knees to look the little girl in the eyes. His fingers came to wrap around her shoulders to hold her still. “I was always going to come back darling. I would never leave you.” Phoebe grinned reluctantly and he gave her a kiss on her chubby little cheek.

 

“Who’s that?” she asked with an objectively rude finger pointed straight at Harry.

 

Louis whipped around to see a look on Harry’s face he was unfamiliar with. His eyes seemed to sparkle at the display in front of his and a smile played over his lips. Was it pride? Deep down Louis knew that Harry was seeing his own child in Phoebe –even if it would be a boy. It was hard to imagine that one day the child inside Louis would be six years old. He wasn’t even big enough to see, let alone big enough to hug him like Phoebe had just. “That’s Harry,” Louis told her, staring up at him, “he’s a good friend of mine.”

 

“Did he bring you back?”

 

“Yeah love,” he nodded, “he sure did.”

 

“Phoebe!” a voice called from up the stairs, “who is it?”

 

“Loulou!” Phoebe giggled, “and Harry!”

 

Then his mother’s leg appeared on the staircase and Louis’ stomach lurched into his throat. “Don’t be silly Phoebs, Louis’ not-“ then their eyes met, blue on blue and the room seemed to drain of all warmth. He couldn’t imagine what his mother was thinking, having probably mourned him only to find him at her doorstep. “Louis?” she asked, as if to make sure she wasn’t imagining his appearance.

 

“Hi mum,” he said, and immediately wished he had said something more resounding. It seemed too casual for such a moment, but in the moment he couldn’t think of anything better.

 

His mother held him hard against her chest without another word. This felt like his home. This felt how he expected it to feel. And suddenly he realized how easy it would be to stay here forever. She would take him back, wouldn’t she? And then he could just stay here with his family and things could go back to how they’d been in December. _It would be so easy._ But then his eyes fell on Harry where he stood behind him and he knew he couldn’t stay. His heart hurt at the idea of seeing him sail away from this island without him. He couldn’t imagine life without Harry anymore. He couldn’t imagine waking up without feeling his warmth and his weight against him as _The Rose_ rocked through the open sea. He couldn’t imagine living a day without only having to look outside his cabin to see Harry doing what he did best. He certainly couldn’t imagine knowing that Harry was out in the world somewhere when he was on an island without him.

 

“I thought you were dead Louis!” His mother told him harshly, but he could tell that she wasn’t able to be angry with him. “I had come to terms with you never coming back, and here you are. My boy. My beautiful little boy was gone.” Her voice cracked around her words and his own eyes began to well up as he felt her tears fall onto his shoulder. He had missed her so thoroughly that the feeling couldn’t melt even with her arms wrapped tightly around him. Even with her there he still missed her.

 

“I’m here, mum.” He affirmed to her as if she didn’t already know, because his instinct was to say that he wasn’t leaving again and that just wasn’t true. He’d be gone again come tomorrow. How was he meant to tell her that?

 

“Who’s this?” she asked when she finally pulled her head from the crook of his neck and noticed that there was an unknown man in her house.

 

“This is Harry, my friend.” He felt terrible for lying to his mother, but he’d put her through enough that day already. There was so much of Harry that would shock her. The fact that he son was a pirate would make her faint on the spot, the fact that he was having a pirate’s baby might just stop her heart.

 

***

 

Later that afternoon after tea, when Louis and his mother sat in the parlour, while Harry was off somewhere with his little sisters who had all fallen absolutly in love with him, his mother turned to him and asked quite blatantly, “So, who’s the father?”

 

“W-what?” Louis stuttered out. He hadn’t given even the slightest hint about the baby –at least he hadn’t thought he had.

 

“Darling,” she sighed and Louis felt an awful lot better when she didn’t seem upset. “I’ve been pregnant enough times to tell that you aren’t holding your stomach because you’re hungry,’ his mother smirked at him and they both looked down to realize that Louis was resting an absent hand on his belly.

 

“It’s, um, early.” He tried to explain why he hadn’t told his mother what was probably a thing you were meant to tell your mother the second you found out.

 

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” she asked disbelieving, “really Lou, you’d think you’d have enough trust in your mother to know that I’d see straight through you showing up with your dear friend Harry who looks at you like he’d throw himself off a cliff if you asked him to.” Louis wasn’t sure what that would look like if he saw it, but he trusted his mother enough to know it was true. “So you’re in love with him then?”

 

“Aye,” Louis said automatically, then corrected himself, “yes.”

 

“You’ve only been gone for six months and you come back in love and pregnant. Imagine that.” She spoke rather bluntly about the fact that Louis had found a lover, and Louis wanted to remind her that if he’d gone to England, he would have come home pregnant either way. Wouldn’t she rather he be in love than effectively a slave?

 

“At least it’s my baby,” he said, and his mother seemed to crumple.

 

She pulled him into her chest and a tear hit the top of his head where it was tucked under her chin. “I’m so sorry, love.” And they both didn’t need to say any more than that. They both cried a little more than they should have then, and it hit Louis that he was never letting his child leave him. Never. If his son wanted to go anywhere, Louis was going with him. He’d do anything for his baby son.

 

He didn’t want to dwell on what was meant to be anymore. “Harry thinks it’s a girl, but I’ve just got this feeling that it’ll be a boy, you know?”

 

His mum let out a little chuckle and pulled him back out to look him in the eyes. “I always knew. Your father was often wrong, but he’s often wrong about most things, come to think about it.” She laughed, but Louis froze in her arms. She’d just referred to her husband presently, and the only two people in world the who would know that was wrong where in her house. Her face dropped when she noticed Louis’ stiffness. “Are you okay?”

 

“Dad’s not here.” He told her, and she gave him a look of sympathy. She must’ve thought he was worried of his father coming back to find him, but little did she know Louis had made sure he wouldn’t.

 

“Yes darling. He’s out doing some business for a while, he won’t be back for a fortnight at the least.”

 

“No, no,” he insisted. “He’s not coming back.”

 

“’Don’t be silly Lou-“

 

“Dad’s dead, mum.”

 

Her hands came to cover her mouth as if to stifle a scream and her eyes went so wide that he could see the white all the way around her irises. She shook as she searched his eyes for some reason why he might know such a thing –or maybe why he would make it up. “Were you in the Navy? Is that where you were?”

 

Of course being in the Navy was her first instinct. No mother wanted her son to be a pirate. He shook his head slowly. “A trader then?” she asked, even though it was clear that she’d figured out what he’d been doing. She was still desperate to be wrong. Again, he shook his head. “Oh god. Louis!” she cried her hands flying back to her mouth. “And Harry?”

 

“Captain.”

 

A tear flowed down her cheek and into her dress. The words seemed to hit her in the stomach with a blow that knocked all the air out of her lungs. Even more than the news of her husband being dead, the news of her son becoming a pirate was worse than anything else. It seemed on par to a gunshot. “You can’t,” she sobbed dryly, as if no tears would come out where they needed to. “I couldn’t bear it,” she shook her head, breaking their eye contact like she simply couldn’t look at him anymore.

 

“I’ll go,” Louis offered, moving to get up off the couch, “Lottie’s okay, by the way.”

 

A fierce hand wrapped around his wrist. “Don’t. You. Dare.” she spoke harsher than Louis had ever heard her in his life. She pulled him back to sit with a strength that he hadn’t known she possessed. Her fingernails dug marks into his skin with no regard for anything except keeping him in his place. He’d never seen her so decidedly outward about anything. She had always been such a timid woman, submissive even. Louis had spent his whole life with her as a wavering presence, shimmering in and out from the background to smile for a moment then fade yet again. Now, she was monstrous, dominant, aggressive, like he’d never seen her. Was this who she’d always been? Was this the woman hiding behind his father?

 

The more he thought about her, the more he realized that it must be. His sisters had a different father, and judging by Ernest and Doris’ emerging red hair, they did too. She was no stranger to saying _fuck off_ to Troy Austin. She’d fought for him to stay as a child, and while Louis hadn’t seen many of the arguments, he knew that his father wasn’t an easy negotiator. She must’ve promised him something amazing to have won him over. She was fiercely protective of her children, always had been, and probably always would be.

 

“You aren’t leaving this house. And you certainly aren’t returning to that God damned pirate any time soon,” she spat venom as she spoke and Louis could nearly see her teeth growing sharp and fingernails gnarled like a monstrous being. She scared him for the first time in his life.

 

Then Harry came sauntering in with his hand in Doris’, bent down to hold her at a level she could feel. Louis’ heart tugged at his chest, yearning to move towards him like a moth to a flame.

 

“Let go of my daughter, you filthy bastard,” his mother growled and immediately Harry dropped Doris’ hand. He looked somewhat dumbfounded for a moment, but then steeled himself into the exact person that Louis did not want his mother to see. Captain Styles would only show her what she expected to see, but Harry –Harry might just change what she expected.

 

“Sorry m’am,” he said quietly, empty even. “I’ll go if you want me to.” And Louis expected him to run straight out the door, but instead he stood his ground a moment longer, “But I think that you ought to let your son decide if he’d like to come with me.” Then with a hardened stare and piercing eyes he said, “I think you’ve forced him into enough.”

 

Louis’ mother’s hand dropped from his arm like Harry had cast some sort of spell over her. She looked as if she had frozen solid all of a sudden, like a block of ice in the middle of the hot living room. “Haz-“ Louis warned, wanting to stop any damage he might make before it was too late.

 

Something shifted in Harry’s eyes and they seemed so full of life that it was disconcerting. He was too present. This wasn’t Captain Styles stealing his body or his vocal chords, this was Harry standing up for him like nothing he had ever seen. “No,” he commanded and everyone in the room stopped, “I know you won’t speak up for yourself, so I will in your place. Ma’am, I know you want your son home, and if it were up to me I would let him stay here, but it isn’t. I don’t want him away from his family before he needs to be, but I also know that he’s more than capable of choosing for himself. If I’m honest, this family has done enough to him.”

 

It was harder than he had expected to hear Harry speak about his mother’s wrongdoings. All this time it had been down to Louis’ father, and to what he had done, but in the end his mother had let it happen. She had lost that ferocity she had just displayed long ago in the face of Troy Austin. Maybe it was buried under there, but he couldn’t hail her as a martyr any longer. She had made mistakes just as he had, and she had pained him just as he pained her.

 

Harry nodded once he felt finished with his speech and looked to Louis to say, “I’ll be on the ship if you need me.” And he was shocked it wasn’t an ultimatum. It wasn’t “if you want me” or “when you need me.” It was rather a nice gesture. _If you need me_ rung in his ears for longer than it should have and he knew that he would need Harry, soon rather than later. Even if he had to sneak out his bedroom window for the second time. Harry was right about what he said. Louis had let this family hurt him for long enough, and he _was_ more than capable of deciding things for himself. He was going to be a parent soon for god’s sakes!

 

“I won’t stay,” he told his mother once the door had shut and an uneasy silence had fallen over the room. “I’ll stay for today, I mean, but not any longer. I’ve got my life now, and it isn’t here. I’ll tell Lottie to visit too, but I doubt she’ll stay either. We’re happy now, more than we could have been here. It’s so free out there, you know? It’s like there isn’t anything that could hold me back from doing what I’d like. No rules, no expectations. We sail when we want, we rest when we like, we dance when we wish to and we eat when we can. It isn’t perfect, and sometimes I wish that I could come back here just for a night or two, but I wouldn’t trade anything for the feeling I have waking up every day in the middle of the ocean.”

 

“Even home?” she asked hopefully, as if it would break down Louis’ argument around him until all that was left was her and this house.

 

Louis shook his head, “This isn’t home anymore.”

 

That felt final. It felt like there was nothing left to say in the matter. Hispaniola hadn’t felt the same, this house hadn’t felt the same and his mother sure as hell hadn’t felt the same. He’d changed. and he couldn’t be certain whether it was for better or worse, but he wasn’t the same Louis who climbed out a window in December. And this Louis couldn’t live the way his sixteen year old self had. Not anymore.

 

***

 

Harry was puttering around the tiny boat when Louis finally arrived back at the docks. He had his back turned to him and in the growing moonlight he looked like nothing more than a merchant’s apprentice, fresh off the boat from England and eager to start a better life. His hair fell flatly over his face and his tunic strained against his back, growing moist with sweat off the hot sun. He was cast in a blue light and it caught the shine of the necklace hanging off his neck and the rings glinted off his fingers as he played with the ropes.

 

“Do you want to get dinner?” Louis called from the dock and Harry whipped around with a smile that looked almost surprised he was really there. It hurt to think that Harry hadn’t been sure he’d returned. “You see, everyone on this island has forgotten I even existed and I’ve brought this pretty boy back who I’d like to show off,”

 

“Must be a real looker,” Harry smirked.

 

“Oh yeah, gorgeous,” Louis teased back, “I reckon our babies will be cute as anything.”

 

Harry couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he swung himself by the mast onto the docks. “Of course my baby will, have you met her daddy?” he teased as he went to rest his hands on the sides of Louis’ stomach. His eyes would flick from Louis’ to his belly as if he could see his the baby.

 

“I’m Daddy then?” Louis smiled back. There was something so incurably happy about talking about the baby. His eyes would light up without his intention but certainly not unwanted. He was in love with Harry, but possibly more in love with the fact that Harry loved their baby.

 

“I figured that I’d be Papa. Seems more proper,” Harry shrugged.

 

“How come you get to be more proper?” Louis teased. If he was honest, he wanted to be Daddy more than he wanted to be Papa, but he couldn’t shake his automatic impulse to pick a fight over everything he could.

 

“Lou,” Harry chuckled and he moved to give him little butterfly-soft kisses along the underside of his jaw, moving towards his ear. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but I’m the Captain of the most powerful pirate ship on the seven seas. I think that calls for my daughter to call me a more formal name.”

 

“Don’t let Malik hear you say that. I doubt he’ll take too kindly to that.”

 

Harry’s fingers rubbed little circles into his tunic and his breath stuck to the edges of his face, “I’ve got Malik’s finest son, so I’d say he’d agree with me.”

 

“Kiss me?” Louis asked quietly, a smile still playing over their mouths as they met in the middle and everything felt quiet. He could hear the constant sound of crickets form every angle, but with his eyes shut he could imagine that the stars were audibly twinkling around him like a galactic orchestra, far, far away. There, down on earth, it was only he and Harry. He could feel Harry’s heat through his fingertips and his mouth, and nothing else. Nothing was more apparent than Harry in his mind and he hoped that nothing ever would be.

 

“I love you,” Harry said into his mouth, hot and breathy and just the way Louis wanted it.

 

“I love you, too.” he replied, “and there’s no place I’d rather be than here with you.”

 

***

 

“What do you want to name her?” Harry asked when they arrived back in Nassau a couple of days later. After their trip, James had come to tell them that the ship was finished and ready for them to take as soon as they’d like. It felt like the end of something if Louis was honest, and it was a rather sombre occasion as they stood in front of the new ship, their things carried behind them by lesser ranking crewmembers.

 

_The Rose_ had come to be Louis’ home, and being without it felt as if he wasn’t whole. It wasn’t like he’d never see it; in fact he’d probably spend the vast majority of his time on it still, but living on the new ship scared him a little bit. The end of an era of sorts. Perhaps the end of his childhood.

 

“ _The Blind Pearl,”_ Louis told him. He’d have to come to terms with the new ship sooner than later, and what better way to make it home again than to name it. The name fit, and Louis could see himself living there for longer than he had lived on _The Rose._

 

He’d come to this realization before, but it still shocked him that he could imagine spending the rest of his life as a pirate. Only six months ago, he had wondered how anyone could bear to spend more than a little time on a ship like this. He had been hoping that by some miracle he would be able to go home to Hispaniola to his mum and to Lottie and to the rest of his siblings, but he’d known his father wouldn’t allow it. So few things still existed in Hispaniola as they had when he left. His mum was no longer a deity, unharmed even by the man she married. Lottie was no longer an innocent child incapable of living without him. His siblings were older than he pictured them, and they no longer relied on him to function. Most importantly, his father simply ceased to exist.

 

When he thought of home now, none of those people were there. All there was was Harry and Zayn and Liam and Niall and a vague image of a baby in his arms in the cabin of _The Rose_. That was what he longed to return to, and nothing would stop him any longer.

 

“I like it,” Harry nodded, a fond smile looking Louis up and down, embracing him in a feeling that set a fuzzy feeling into his heart. The bright of the sun glinted off the curls of Harry’s hair and illuminated him like he was an angel of sorts. _His saving grace_ , perhaps. Maybe his guardian angel. Either way, the man seemed to shine out of himself and cast a warm glow over Louis with his smiles and his kisses and his soft caresses at every second of contact.

 

“I like _you_.” Louis countered back. “In fact there are few things I like more than you.”

 

“And those few are?”

 

“The baby.” Louis said bluntly, “and this ship, I reckon.”

 

Because the ship represented something more than just a new home. It was a new life for him to live, where he was no longer Louis Austin, nor was he Tommo the lost newbie, he was Louis Tomlinson and he was settled there. He’d have a child soon and the love of his short life would be there to see it through. He was no longer a child, something broken to be fixed. He was something permanent and solid and _needed._

 

“Well, _The Blind Pearl_ awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is coming to a semi-end. Probably only 3-5 more chapters before I'm finally done with this. It's felt like a total odyssey to write but you've all been lovely. 
> 
> I love comments! But you all know that ;)
> 
> If you'd like to reblog the fic post: [here](https://mcssymon.tumblr.com/post/164973839325/i-dont-own-a-single-gun-but-if-i-did-youd-be)

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to reblog this on Tumblr, it's [here](https://mcssymon.tumblr.com/post/164973839325/i-dont-own-a-single-gun-but-if-i-did-youd-be)


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